


La Liga: Violence and Tantrums

by NeyMessi_FCB (Sherlockophobia)



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Anger, Anxiety, Bondage, Dominance, First Time, Football | Soccer, Hurt/Comfort, Leo is the calm one, M/M, Neymar has temper tantrums, Neymar is angry, Nightmares, On Hiatus, Paranoia, Revenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-05 11:03:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 38,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5372951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlockophobia/pseuds/NeyMessi_FCB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Neymar is knocked out during the final seconds of a La Liga game, he loses his temper and tries to attack Ronaldo. He is dragged off of the turf and when he returns back to his hotel room, he finds the worst thing he believes he could see. His room is trashed and he swore he stepped on sperm-covered toilet paper. He was out for blood, has anger issues, and wants revenge on Cristiano. Messi is trying to keep the peace and stop things before they escalate any further. Is that what is always best, especially in a game so rough and violent?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is my first NeyMesi fiction. The Spanish will be translated at the bottom. Sorry if it is shotty or weird, I have an Argentinian (my boyfriend), Guatemalan, and Mexican translating for me, so the words might be different than what you know/are used to.
> 
> ——————————
> 
> I am posting to let everyone know that this fic is on an indefinite hiatus. I’m not sure when I’ll come back to it as I’ve lost interest, but it’s not gone for good, I hope. Thanks to all who have read this fic and I apologize if you wanted to see it completed. I will be working on other projects and fics instead. See everyone on the flip side!!!! Besos xoxo

_La Liga, respirando rápido, parandose con fuersa, lagrimas, sangre, gritos de dolor, de los goles, los gritos estan resonando, dolor de cabeza, desplomarse, negro, la oscuridad, iluminando, despierto._

Neymar sat up the second he woke up, he was out momentarily, and he wiped the blood off of his chin. When he fell, he must have bit his lip, because it was sore and the trickle got on his jersey. Tears of anger welled up in his eyes when he realized what happened, but before any of the Barcelona team could get to him, he was already on his feet. He glanced around to see what he could get a hold of, noticed the ball nearby, grabbed it, and glared at any Real Madrid player in his sight. He steadied himself on the turf and singled out Ronaldo, before throwing the ball at the man as hard as possible. The player dodged it, laughing, while someone grabbed him and pulled him toward the sideline, pushing him out of the stadium. He growled and turned around on the ball of his foot, ready to punch whoever it was, except he stopped because this person was Messi, one of his good friends, and the person he secretly might have liked. The game ended and they had lost by one point, simply because Neymar missed the pass as he was shoved to the ground. He was seething by this point, but Messi just kept his hand on his shoulder and said nothing. What was there to be said? Neymar was assaulted in typical game play and he reacted to it poorly, like usual. He was moderately surprised that Barcelona hadn't kicked him off the team by now, what with all of his outbursts. He grumbled and pulled away from his friend and stalked off to go shower or punch something, whatever to calm him down. 

“Neymar,” He heard that voice, but he only stopped for a second before he kept walking. 

His own name sent shivers down his spine as he headed toward the lockers back in the stadium. He took the long way, taking time to breathe and think. He knew he was a good player, he knew he could have scored, but who tripped him? Going through his thoughts, he pinpointed it on Lucas Vázquez, who seemed to have been the culprit. When he came to the part when he was kicked in the head, he didn’t recognize who the shoe belonged to, so he wasn’t quite sure. He reached back and rubbed the side of his head as he rounded a corner into the stadium again. He was walking among fans, which made him pick up his pace to get away from them. The last thing he needed was to be trampled by all the women who wanted to have sex with him. He ran as fast as he could through the throng of people, sweaty bodies pressing against him, and he nearly vomited. It wasn’t what Neymar wanted. He wanted a little piece of Argentina, but that couldn’t happen, especially with how livid he was currently. He twisted in an odd fashion to maneuver around a rather tall man who wanted to get his signature and leaped over a few legs or two as he slid toward the rest of his team. He barely acknowledged their existence while he made his way into the showers, slowing to a walk when he arrived at the stall. He stepped in and stripped his clothes off, tossing them over the shower rail and turning the water on full blast, as hot as he could bear it.

He slammed his fists on the tile and screamed so loud his throat strained, “Odio a ese pendejos , los odios! Esos cabrones!”

He let himself slide to the ground, hugging his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them as the water beat against his side. He didn’t care that the entire team could see him sitting there, if only the lower half of him. He didn’t care who used this shower before him. He was upset and rather pissed and allowed the tears to fall, though he didn’t make a sound. His body was shaking and if anyone decided to watch him, it would be rather obvious. Neymar rested his forehead against his arms and closed his eyes, while the water made his hair fall around his face, destroying whatever style he had going on. It was infuriating that the other team thought they could treat him that way and get away with it. He knew every team did that, though, especially when Barcelona had three of the best players around. He just didn’t realize how dirty Real Madrid could play. He sniffled and wiped his nose on his arm, allowing the shower to wash it away, steam enveloping him. He heard footsteps approaching, but he ignored them, shrinking to the back of the shower to sit in the corner.

“Ney,” The smooth voice said and when he looked down to see who was there, he noticed it was Messi, because those legs were unmistakable.

He ignored him, too busy sulking and trying to deal with what had happened out there on the field. His head was throbbing dully, but he felt that was the least of his worries. He knew he should have gotten checked out by a doctor. He should have done a lot of things differently. He inhaled quietly to stop himself from crying and simply stared at his friend’s feet and legs as he stood, waiting for Neymar to respond. He knew he couldn’t bring himself to say anything, because if he did, he would break out into a sob, and everyone would hear him. Once they heard him, they would make fun of him and harass him, which is what they usually like to do. Leo tries to get them to stop, to no avail, because they are as persistent as a mosquito trying to bite for blood. He looked up at the bright blinding light above him before turning his gaze to the white wall in front of him. It was almost an egg shell white, not quite perfect, but nothing was perfect any more. He exhaled, watching the steam move slightly and pulled his legs closer to his body, but nearly jumped out of his skin when cold air hit him. A tattooed arm was sticking through the curtain, a towel in the hand, which made Neymar come out of his daze.

“Venga acqui,” Messi spoke again, quietly, almost like he was speaking to a scared child.

“No!” He snapped, though his voice was strained from the crying and yelling.

As expected, when he said that, he began to sob, clawing at his own legs as he tried to get himself to calm down. It was loud and ugly, and even though that arm should have left and those shoes should have taken his friend away, it didn’t happen. Messi stayed there with him, continuing to offer the towel while it was becoming slightly damp from water droplets. Neymar longed to lie next to the man and trace those tattoos, while he held him securely, but he knew that couldn’t happen. It never would happen, because Messi was straight and that was that. He carded a hand back through his long hair and slowly stood up, using the wall for support, and shut off the water. He reached out for the towel as he stopped crying and grabbed hold of it, pulling so he could dry off. His hair was now a mess, but he still wrapped the white towel around his waist. It oddly matched the color of the wall next to him and for some reason that unnerved him. He pushed the curtain aside and wiped his face with his hand, not bothering to look to see who all was staring at him. He assumed the team was watching, laughing at him and about to poke some fun, but when Messi put an arm around his shoulder, he allowed himself to see what was going on. There was no one there besides the two players and Neymar almost collapsed from relief, but Messi held him up.

“I told them to leave and let me handle it. Come on, let’s go sit on the bench for a few minutes, calm you down.”

He allowed his friend to guide him over to the wooden bench that lay parallel to another and sat himself down onto it. His legs naturally moved apart and he rested his elbows on his thighs, burying his face into his hands. When they were pulled away, he noticed Leo was sitting in front of him, crouched down and balancing on the balls of his feet. He stared at the ground once more, finding it rather fascinating how the drops from his hair splattered on the concrete below him. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the other person, ashamed of what happened, and afraid of what he would see. He acted like a child in front of thousands of people, including both FC Barcelona and Real Madrid. He was surprised he didn’t get a red card, but that was probably because it was the end of the game and he was taken out before he could do anything more. He expected to be yelled at or lectured, or worse, silence. He awkwardly rubbed at his arms, wanting to hide his face again, hide from whatever was coming to him. The thing he hated the most was fucking up in front of Messi because he was about ten times more experienced, not to mention older, and Neymar looked up to him.

“Look at me. Neymar. I’m not mad at you, but you can’t act like that, especially out there,” Lionel murmured softly, not moving from where he perched.

Neymar’s eyes began to water and he turned his head to stare at a far off wall, not wanting to make eye contact with his friend. That was too hard. He was afraid, he was frustrated, and he didn’t want to disappoint anyone. He sighed and stared up at the light, knowing that it would help him fight back the tears, because he didn’t want to cry, not in front of Messi. He wasn’t quite sure what he would do, especially since he was practically naked, aside from the towel covering his genitalia. He could change back into his sweaty uniform and head back to the hotel for an actual shower and watch TV, drink, whatever, but for some reason he wanted to stay in Messi’s presence. It wasn’t “some reason”, to be honest; he couldn’t deny his attraction to the other player. His short brown hair that was sometimes golden when the sun hit it just right, his beautiful eyes, the giant muscles in his arms and legs, those tattoos, everything made him swoon like some school girl. 

Messi spoke again, but this time Neymar looked at him, but focused on his mouth and the way it moved instead of his eyes, “I know you’re upset, mad, and you want revenge or something. Ronaldo is a prick and I was like that when I was first starting out. You haven’t been at it for long, but Ney, that’s not the right way to react. If you are angry, walk away. Scream. Just not in front of everybody.”

“But Leo, they knocked me out. They tripped me and knocked me out and I was scared and I didn’t know _what_ to do. They made a fool out of me, a pinche idiota! What was I supposed to do, Messi? What was I supposed to do…,” He trailed off with a whisper, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand and wrapping his arms around his stomach.

“I didn’t know they knocked you out. You are not a fool or an idiot. Let’s just go back to the hotel,” Was the response he got and it made him feel warm inside, because it felt like Leo was taking care of him, and he needed that right now.

Neymar nodded and got up off the bench, holding onto the towel so it wouldn’t fall, and walked over to where he left his uniform. He slipped it back on and walked over to Leo, who turned and headed out of the locker room and the stadium completely. Their teammates had already gone back to the hotel at Messi’s order, which left the two of them to take a cab back to where they were staying. Everyone had separate rooms and Neymar’s was two doors down from Messi’s. It was comforting to know that his friend was right down the hall if he needed him, so he could go over if something was bothering him. Maybe they could have a couple beers together or watch a movie, maybe a horror, since movies aren’t the manliest thing in the world. He jumped slightly at the feeling in his shorts, the thoughts of his friend making him hard, and he glanced at Messi to make sure he didn’t see. He fidgeted and began to think about disgusting things, like Ronaldo, to get the erection to go back down. 

The ride back to the hotel was practically silent, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. Messi occasionally spoke about certain passes and how the team could do better, but mostly Neymar stared out the window at the other cars and the scenery. When they arrived at the hotel, Ney told him he was going to go to the restaurant down by the lobby for a few drinks and he would go back to his room. Messi nodded and left him alone to go to the elevator and up to the fifth floor where they were staying. Neymar went forward, to the bar part of the restaurant, and sat down to get something in his system to deal with what just occurred. He fidgeted with his fingers and shook his leg, trying to balance the spaces between the studs on the bottom of his cleats on the wooden bar that is between the legs on the barstool. When he was unsuccessful, he just rested his feet on them and looked up when the bar tender was in front of him. Neymar assumed he looked like shit, with the dried blood on his jersey and the puffy-redness of his eyes, but he didn’t care too much about that. People knew who he was, and if they didn’t, one look at his jersey could tell them he was a Fútbol player. The bartender asked what he wanted and he ordered a Ron pálido de Motril, intending to get at least buzzed enough to handle life.

He glanced at the television, which unfortunately was recapping the game he just got back from, and when he saw his assault, he flinched. He was tripped and Ronaldo was next to him, then all of a sudden, Cristiano purposely kicked him in the side of the head rather hard. Neymar hissed through clenched teeth as he gripped the table hard enough to make his knuckles white, but he remembered what Messi had said about his outbursts. Not here, not in front of other people. He let go of the table and turned around right as his drink came. He lifted it up and slammed about a quarter of it in one hit, groaning and wiping his mouth as it travelled down his throat. The alcohol hit almost immediately, but he kept drinking, ignoring the fact that his vision was going a bit blurry. One would be enough. He finished it faster than he had expected and set the glass down, tossing some money onto the table and walking over to the elevator. He needed to go shower and sleep to calm himself down, even though the liquor seemed to be doing that for him. He stubbed slightly, but made it into the elevator, and pressed the number five. He listened to the dings as he leaned against the railing that was inside the elevator and when it jerked to a stop and the heavy metal doors opened, he walked out. He paid no attention to the music that was playing in the elevator or the fact that it had mirrors, something he always liked to observe. He wanted to get back inside his room and do what he needed to do.

When he approached the door, it was slightly ajar, which made him freeze mid-step. He glanced around the hallway and saw a flash of white heading into an elevator. He growled and pushed his door open, only to be met with a horrific sight. His room had feminine hygiene products all over it, tampons hanging from the ceiling fan, pads on the walls, liners on his bed, and tears filled his eyes once more. He yelled and tried ripping them off the furniture, but he couldn’t bring enough strength to get them all. He was too buzzed, exhausted, and upset to be able to handle what had happened. There was a message on his bathroom mirror, “Maricón”, written in red lipstick. He let out a cry and backed out of the bathroom, allowing the tears to fall down his face. He ended up stepping on a wad of toilet paper, which he didn’t want to know what was on it, because it was probably sperm, and kicked off his cleats. He watched where he was going and left the room, slamming the door shut and jogging over to Messi’s room. He barely had enough energy to knock on the door, leaning against the wall next to it, as he waited for the door to be answered.

When Leo appeared, he moved and fell into his arms, sobbing, and was pulled into the room, Messi kicking the door shut with his foot. He was brought over to the bed and made to sit on it as his friend sat beside him with an arm around him once more. Neymar buried his face into the man’s freshly cleaned black t-shirt and continued to cry while Leo rubbed his back gently, hushing him every so often. When he finished, he sat himself up and rubbed at his nose, looking up at his teammate. He tried to control his breathing, but it wasn’t working, and he ended up hyperventilating, which caused Messi to wrap his arms around him and hold him tightly. Lionel was like a big brother to him, but Ney wanted more, though he knew for certain all the other man saw in him was friendship. That seemed to have upset him more, especially with the alcohol in his system, and he began to cry again. He barely noticed, but Messi was rocking him, like one would do with a small child. It was rather comforting and eventually he calmed down again, and just stared blankly at the bed sheets.

“What happened, Ney?” The whisper was right next to his ear and he swore he tensed up.

“They destroyed my room. Women stuff everywhere, like tampons and pads, my mirror said “faggot”, and I think I stepped in some sperm covered toilet paper,” He murmured, voice cracked and almost monotone.

Messi held him tighter and rested his chin on top of his head, “Go take a shower and I will let you borrow some clothes. You can sleep here tonight and I will have some maids clean your room. I don’t have an extra bed, as you can see, but I’ll sleep on the floor or couch.”

Neymar nodded and reluctantly pulled himself out of his arms and trudged over to the bathroom to do what Messi told him. He wondered how his friend could keep such a level head, especially in situations like this, when all Neymar wanted to do was knock someone out. He leaned against the counter with his hands on the edge and stared at himself in the mirror. He looked like a wreck, hair disheveled, eyes red and puffy again, nose running, and slight drool coming from the corner of his mouth. He pulled his gaze away and took off his shirt, undershirt, shorts, underwear, and socks and climbed into the shower, turning it on as hot as he had it in the locker room. He washed his face first, allowing the water to take away his sadness, and then his hair. He ran his fingers through it, getting shampoo down into his scalp, before washing his body. With soap covered hands, his mind was suddenly filled with pictures of Messi and he gasped as his finger ran over his nipple. He pretended his own hands were Messi’s as he inched them down toward the growing cock between his legs and teased around it before grabbing it and tugging. He let out a slight moan and tilted his head back into the water. His fingers found the head and he bucked forward, imagining it was going into Messi’s mouth. He thrusted again and again until he ended up cumming, hitting the wall with the cum, and groaning his friend’s name.

He rinsed off and shut the water off and with shaky legs he got himself out of the shower. When he grabbed a towel hanging up, he noticed his clothes were gone and fresh ones were sitting on the counter. He swallowed, his face immediately growing hot, and he slowly dried off and tugged the new clothes on. They were a bit large, but the grey shirt with a low v-neck looked nice on him, as well as the boxers and pajama bottoms. He shrugged and took the shirt off, left it on the counter, and exited the bathroom. Messi was on the couch, a beer in hand, watching something on the television. It was probably a movie. Neymar was nervous and worried, hoping Messi didn’t hear him in the shower. It would have been far worse than embarrassing. The carpet was fluffy and he suddenly noticed it while he walked over to the bed. He sat on it and Leo didn’t even look to see if he had gotten out of the shower yet. He assumed whatever was on had his friend’s attention, so he lay back in bed, pulled the covers over himself, and murmured a goodnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "La Liga, respirando rápido, parandose con fuersa, lagrimas, sangre, gritos de dolor, de los goles, los gritos estan resonando, dolor de cabeza, desplomarse, negro, la oscuridad, iluminando, despierto." - "La Liga, fast breathing, hard stops, tears, sweat, blood. Cries of pain, screams of goals, echos, headache, collapse. Black. Dark. Light. Awake.  
> "  
> "Odio a ese pendejos , los odios! Esos cabrones!” - "I fucking hate him! I fucking hate them! The fucking assholes."  
> “Venga acqui" - Come here.  
> "Maricón" - Faggot.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay. Holidays tied me up as well as getting my GED (which I got!!) and trying to start college, which failed. I am sorry this one is a bit short, I hope you understand. There was a lot of editing and rearranging of things. Trust me, it will get better! Not everything is doom and gloom. ;) Do not forget to comment, they help me to continue to want to write.
> 
> Also, apparently biological men do not urinate with morning wood. I don't feel like changing it. I just found it out from my boyfriend, lmao.

A scream woke Neymar up with a start, causing him to push the sheets off his body and sit up, rubbing at his eyes. They were trying to adjust to the dark and he was working on making out the figure standing a few feet away. _What had happened?_ He grumbled and swung his legs over the side of the bed, his head aching worse than it did yesterday, and reached around for the light that was supposed to be on the night table. He felt a weight on the other side of the bed and when he turned; he could see the outline of that same person, now near him. He flinched, afraid it could be Ronaldo or one of the other Real Madrid players coming to screw with him, but when he felt a warm hand grab his arm, he recognized it as Messi. The scream must have woken him up, too, and now Ney was determined to find out where it came from if it didn’t come from his friend. He was nervous, unsure of what the time was or what was going on. Was it another prank? Why was he so certain it was the opposing team?

“Are you okay? You screamed in your sleep, woke me up,” Leo murmured sleepily, yawning and leaning back onto the pillows.

 _Oh. It was him._ He furrowed his eyebrows and tried to figure out why he would have screamed. He did have a nightmare, but did it really elicit such a reaction from the tinier man? He brought his legs back onto the bed and hugged them close to his chest, resting his chin on them, in order to stare at his friend, who seemed to be staring back. They stayed in silence for a little while with the room almost completely pitch black, save from the blue glow in the corner of the room which indicated Messi was charging his cell phone. Neymar frowned, but still didn’t move or say anything, because he did not know how to react. The room was a bit cold and there was an occasional breeze hitting his body from the air conditioner pushing it through the room. He shivered and dropped his legs, falling back onto the bed as well in order to stare at the ceiling. It was his way of avoidance, staring at inanimate objects, because as long as he didn’t see the other person, he couldn’t judge their reactions. It made it easier to deal with negativity, disappointment, and failure.

“Neymar?” He questioned, voice filled with concern at what had happened.

Neymar sighed and rolled onto his side, away from Messi, and closed his eyes, “Just a nightmare. I didn’t even know I screamed. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“It’s okay, I didn’t sleep well anyway on that floor and the couch would hurt my neck in the morning. What was the dream about?” 

“Ronaldo.”

That was the only response he gave and he held the corner of his lip between his teeth as he felt Leo shift around on the bed next to him. Covers were moved, the pillow was rustled, and the final sound he heard before he fell asleep was light snoring. His sleep was peaceful this time and he could not figure out if he would attribute that to the fact that his crush was sleeping next to him or that nothing came around that he could remember. He didn’t exactly move much in his sleep, he never had before, but when an arm went flying into his face and landing squarely on his nose, he growled and shoved it off. Sleeping next to his friend was becoming an incredibly hard task as he was kicked in the side, hit in the head for a second time, and kicked in the gut. Eventually he rolled over to face Messi and wrapped his arms and legs around him to hold him down, like an octopus. Their combined body heat was intense, so he removed the covers and tilted his head back on the pillow and went back to sleep.

The final time he woke up, he found himself resting in a pool of his own drool which got all over the pillow case. He slowly let go of his friend and stretched out his limbs, feeling the strain due to them being in a specific position half the night. Messi was already half awake and this startled Neymar into realizing that his friend was aware that he was being held onto. He made matters worse by trailing his eyes down to the other man’s crotch and noticing a hard on, which at first he thought was because of the close proximity, but then remembered that men get morning wood. He half-heartedly sighed and climbed out of bed, moving over Leo and accidentally brushing his own erection against Messi’s thigh. He felt his friend jerk, which only made Neymar move quicker to get into the bathroom for another shower. He noted that he sweated way too much for his own good and when he got inside; he abruptly shut the door and locked it, pulling off his pajamas and sighing in relief when his cock was released. After urinating, it went down partially, but this time he decided to take a cold shower to rid his body of any lust it had for Lionel at this moment.

There was a knock on the door and Neymar immediately shut the water off so that he could hear who was speaking on the other end, “You should let me in.”

His eyes went wide and he didn’t know how to react, so the only thing that came out was a strained, “Why?”

“I need to pee.”

Neymar mouthed an “oh” and grabbed a clean towel, wrapped it around his waist like in the locker room, and stepped out to open the door for his teammate. When he did, Messi walked straight over to the toilet and relieved himself, but the odd thing about it was, that before he went to go pee, he had shut the door again. Neymar leaned himself against the wall and waited, keeping his gaze away from him, though he could not keep himself from sneaking a couple peeks. He tried to hold back a gasp when he saw the size of his cock before it went partially flaccid from the urination. He knew it had to be at least seven inches, but the thing that got him the most was how wide it was. Messi washed his hands; he kept his focus on the guy’s ass, because it was nothing short of perfect. He remembered yesterday that he believed perfection did not exist, but he decided that he found it in his friend, looks and personality combined.

When Leo left, Neymar breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes, tilting his head back to rest against the wall. He looked down at the obvious tent making itself known in the towel and pulled it off; somewhat worrying over the fact that Leo probably saw it. He nearly stumbled when he shifted over to the shower once more, steadying himself with the wet wall, which probably wasn’t too good of an idea because his hand was sliding downward. His descent towards the ground seemed like it was happening in slow motion, even though he collided with the tile below rather quickly; knees making a slight cracking sound. He groaned and pulled himself up, rubbing at the joints, then stepped back into the shower. He was certain he would be the cleanest person in Spain by the time he finished. He walked over to the faucet and turned it on, automatically being sprayed on the head by ice cold water. Neymar had to bite his lower lip in order to suppress a startled scream, which ended up coming out anyway as a loud whine. He had forgotten how cold he had made it, but it did its duty as he was almost positive his testicles went back up inside him. He was automatically flaccid, though he wondered why his body was acting like he was going through puberty all over again. It was up, down, up, unsure, and extremely obnoxious, all because of his teammate. 

He chose not to wash himself, instead shooting more for a quick rinse and leaving almost as fast as he got in there. He realized that he didn’t grab any clean clothes, so he had to pull on the sweaty pajama bottoms from last night. He curled his upper lip, but reluctantly got dressed, grabbing the shirt and boxers, and left the bathroom. Neymar wished the bathroom was filled with steam; he preferred it that way because it helped him relax. Ice water did not give him that luxury and he cursed his anatomy once more. Leo was sitting on the bed; phone in hand, texting away to whoever decided to bother him this morning. It was more than likely Luis Enrique, their manager, wondering what had happened, since he didn’t get to speak to either one of them last night. Neymar scratched at his bicep and joined him on the bed, laying back and looking over at him. The room was chilly which caused him to shiver slightly and tug the comforter back over himself, instead of crawling under them. He kept watching his friend, looking for specific facial expressions, but nothing had changed. Lionel Messi was completely immersed in what he was talking about, fingers tapping at the screen at almost lightning speed.

“Enrique?” Ney asked softly, curling up and bringing his knees toward his chest, almost in a fetal position.

Leo responded with a grunt and he sighed, closing his eyes, hoping their manager wasn’t too upset by Neymar’s episode. He wanted to get better at controlling his anger, but right now, it didn’t seem like it was going to happen. It was like someone lit a fuse in his brain and within two seconds, he was firing off, like a misguided gun. He did have a reason for how he acted yesterday, he was assaulted on the field, and it wasn’t like it was something that was an accident. It was completely something that was planned. Maybe Real Madrid wanted to take out the “Trident” one by one. Would Messi be next, or maybe Suarez? It made him uncomfortable to think about it, so he let his mind wander to the next game that was coming up in a couple days. They were playing Athletica Bilbao, and he was certain both Leo and Suarez would not be in that game. Messi was still working off an injury and Luis Enrique told them that he didn’t want to risk him getting hurt again. Suarez, he wasn’t quite sure about, because his main focus was on the person he idolized ever since learning about him while playing for Brazil.

Neymar would be playing without his closest friends, but he knew he could rely on Gerard and Dani. They would take care of him and hopefully know how to control him if he misfires again. He had played alone before, especially when having to play in Brazil, though for some reason this time felt different. He knew he was psyching himself out, so he chose to remind himself that this would be a great opportunity to show off his skills and let the world know once more what he was made of. Movement on the bed startled him and he opened his eyes to see what was going on, but it was just Lionel who set his phone down and lay back as well. He was staring at the ceiling, seeming to completely forget that Neymar was in the room with him, on the bed as well. It was silent, aside from their breathing, and Ney’s obvious rapid heartbeat that picked up when Messi laid down. He reached out to touch him, but pulled back and curled himself up even further.

“Are you okay?” He questioned softly, not wanting to spook the other man.

“Fine.” That was the response, just one simple word.

Neymar sighed and scooted closer, but provided enough space between the two. “You’re lying.”

Leo sighed as well before responding, “Just the drama from yesterday. Ronaldo kicking you, your reaction, having to explain exactly what happened to save you from being chewed out.”

Neymar was a bit taken aback by what was said, sitting himself up and rubbing his at face. Was he really that bad? It hurt his ego, but he still felt he had good enough reason to throw the ball at the idiot’s head. He still was yellow carded, even though there was a couple seconds left in the game, which had only fueled the rage that was building inside him. It was obvious who started the problem, but the referee saw what they wanted to see, and allowed Ronaldo to kick him while he was down. It probably looked like he was running by or something ridiculous like that. He didn’t exactly remember what had happened, even though he did remember seeing something on the television at the restaurant. It wasn’t his fault and he would hold onto that until the day he died. He grumbled and got off of the bed, starting to pace back and forth in the room, feeling Leo watching him closely. He felt like screaming, hitting something, or worse, simply because he knew everyone was going to question what had happened.

Explaining it to his team mates was no problem, it was trying to talk to their manager that would be the problem. He hated confrontation that did not occur on the field. Out there, when he was in the middle of playing a game, adrenaline keeping him going, he could easily pick a fight with someone who so much as looked at him the wrong way. When the adrenaline wasn’t there and the fire behind the fight was diminished, he wanted to run away and hide like a terrified puppy. It was one of his downfalls, so Enrique usually went to one of the other FCB players to talk to Neymar. They were like family to him, guiding him and making sure he didn’t mess up too much. He liked being able to rely on them, especially Messi and Dani, who were always there to pick him back up when he fell.

“Neymar,” A voice derailed his train of thought and he turned his head to where it came from. “Stop pacing.”

He blinked, but stopped in his tracks, which happened to be in front of a window. He pushed the pale yellow curtain aside and stared out across the city, suddenly having an ache in his stomach which he learned to associate with homesickness. Everything came crashing down onto him in waves, so he grabbed onto the window frame and steadied himself, because he was certain his legs would collapse underneath him. He swallowed and continued to look at what was going on outside of the hotel, noting a couple jet liners flying in a path toward the airport. People were walking on the sidewalks, cars racing down the streets, and he swore he was going to black out. Arms went around his waist and he was being pulled away from the window, weight dropping and he felt the slight strain of the muscles trying to keep him up. He was moved onto the couch and laid himself back, because he swore the room was spinning.

“Are you okay? You almost dropped, I saw your legs shaking,” Messi asked, voice laced with evident concern. 

He placed the back of his hand on Neymar’s forehead as if checking for a fever. “I’m fine, I’m okay.”  


His words came out shaky and he realized this was probably an anxiety attack and nothing to have too much concern over. He wished he could tell his friend, but he didn’t want him to worry more than he already was. The softness of the couch made it seem like he was going to be swallowed, so he turned on his side away from Leo in order to regain his bearings. He was certain that this hadn’t happened since he was signed on with Barcelona and it scared him to know it was happening again. Maybe he needed to see a therapist, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to talk about his problems with a stranger. He hardly told anyone on this team or the Brazilian National Team what was going on with him. He didn’t like to burden people with his problems. Neymar let out a small whine and stared at the different threads in the brown couch cushion that padded the place to rest your back.  


A water bottle was placed in front of him and Leo sat on the couch, more toward the edge of the seat, due to the fact that Neymar was sort of hogging it. Neymar stared at the water bottle for a while, watching as condensation slowly formed on the outside of the plastic. No one said a word even as he finally brought himself out of his daze to drink the water. He did not want to sit up or move, but he knew he needed to in order not to choke. He let out a deep sigh and sat up enough to prop himself up on his elbow and tilted his head back, unscrewing the cap with his teeth, and drinking some of the liquid. It felt good to have the semi-cold water flow through his body and he suddenly wished he had ice. He felt Leo put his arm around him in a comforting manner, which seemed to help enough for him to offer a small smile. He pushed himself up against the other man and nuzzled his head into his side, making a quiet noise of contentment. 

They probably stayed there for a good twenty minutes, Messi occasionally checking his phone and Neymar lost in thought. He finally pushed himself off the couch and threw away the water bottle before scratching at his neck awkwardly. He didn’t know what to do, he wanted to stay with him as long as possible, but he felt somewhat bothersome and that he overstayed his welcome. He pushed the ball of his foot into the carpet and tried to think of what to do next. He wished he knew what time it was, but by the way the sun was shining he figured it was early morning, probably 8am. He decided it would be best to leave, walking himself over to the door before looking back at Leo. It was nice being able to spend the night with him and sleep next to him; he would love to stay longer. It was a complicated decision to fight his desire to remain here. 

"I am going to go, maybe head back to the stadium to train or something. I don't know," He muttered, smiling again.

"Good luck. I might stop by and watch," Messi replied, looking up from his phone.

Neymar shivered, for some reason excited by the fact that he would be watching. He could show off, show him what he's really made of; it would be a great opportunity. He pulled the door open and stepped out into the hall, taking the time to examine his surroundings. The burnt brown color of the wallpaper made him curl his lip in disgust, wondering who was the one allowed to pick the colors. He shook his head and continued to his room in a slow walk. When he got inside, he kicked the door closed and grabbed his duffle bag, tossing it on the bed and pulling out his training outfit. He grumbled at it not being clean, but put it on anyway, and slipped on the cleats. His stomach growled, reminding him he didn't eat anything, but he was already late enough getting to practice. He felt he was riding on thin lines with Enrique, though he knew he was a good enough player that he would keep him for quite some time. Barçelona wanted him for life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really sorry for the delay guys, I know it has been a few months since I last updated this story. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten, I have just been battling depression, PTSD, and a severe lack of motivation. I have been trying to start college, which has been slightly problematic for me, but I am starting May 31st. I hope you like this chapter, I was really stuck in the training part, but I eventually got through it. Let me know what you think. As always, Spanish/Portuguese translations will be in the end notes.

The sun was rather bright when he entered the stadium, but Neymar figured it was due to the rays reflecting off the grass. He squinted, looking around at the empty seats, save for one or two people, and gripped the ball in his hand tighter. Camp Nou was quiet, which was unusual to be around, since on game days it was filled with thousands of screaming people. The blue and red of the seating with the yellow which spells out “MES QUE UN CLUB” stood out significantly. They were more than a club, they were a family, and Neymar wished he could be more with Messi. He frowned and dropped the ball at his feet, kicking it around lightly, before looking as more people filed in. The weather was rather cold, but he dealt with it, especially since the wind wasn’t blowing. He took off across the field with the ball, dribbling it all the way to the goal and back to his original starting point. When he did it for a second time, he added in a few tricks, stopping to juggle. He felt a surge of excitement as more people came in to watch and other Barçelona players went onto the field. Mid-juggle, Neymar began to show off with a couple “Around the World” tricks. He ended up kicking it too high, but saved himself by coming back and hitting it toward the goal. It slammed into the net, which would have been a beautiful goal, so he smiled and looked around to make sure people saw it.

Hadaddi was running toward him almost at full speed and he had to move to the side quickly to avoid him as he stole the ball from the goal. Neymar blinked, but chased after him; the thrill of the game sinking in. It was nice being able to mess around with a teammate without the entire team coming onto the field to train. He was glad he got there early. He wiped his forehead off on the back of his hand before coming up along the side of Hadaddi and taking the ball back. He took off with it toward the other side of the field and did a few tricks to show off, taunting the younger man as he ran toward him. With a laugh, he kicked the ball up over his head and watched as it sailed to the goal. It landed just short of it and bounced slightly before rolling a bit and stopping in front of one of the posts. He groaned and threw his hands up, smiling after to show he meant no harm. Munir jogged up and patted him on the back once as he went to go retrieve the soccer ball. Neymar stayed back, instead choosing to watch as the rest of the team filed onto the field. He checked the stands for Messi, but he was nowhere to be found. Neymar frowned, heart sinking a bit, but trotted after Dani who tore off past him. Everyone was coming out to train and that excited him; he always loved working with the team. It had been a few years since he had joined and most people didn't expect him to last this long with Barçelona. No one wanted to give him a chance and Messi hardly acknowledged his existence. He didn't blame him, though, because they were all busy with their own lives. Eventually he grew close to the Fútbol legend, becoming good friends with him. Everyone else fell into place and he truly felt like he was at home, maybe even more so than with Brazil, but he would never let anyone know that.

He relished in the feeling of his cleats sinking partially into the ground which brought him out of his thoughts. Balls were being kicked around him that suddenly appeared, so instead of going to where Dani was, he caught up with Gerard. Piqué was interesting, marrying a singer named Shakira, whom was obviously attractive. They both were in a way, but Neymar thought that Gerard looked too much like Chris Hemsworth for his tastes. He sniggered at the comparison, but honestly the only thing he could compare between the two was the blue eyes and stocky figure. Unfortunately, Neymar wasn’t too much into women like he likes to lead on. He prefers men, but if he were to say that, he is pretty sure he would lose Barcelona and possibly Brasil. He grabbed his iPhone and went to his Snapchat app, holding the button to record, and spun slowly in circles to get everyone in the shot. Dani stopped for a moment to wave, before allowing a ball to hit him in the chest in order to catch it. He laughed and watched as a text message flashed above the top of the screen. He stopped the Snapchat once it got to the end and tried keeping the message there before it disappeared, but he was too slow. It was from Messi. He bit his lip and quickly added some text to the Snap saying, “Treinamento!” and posting it to his story before checking the message he received.

_“Turn around.”_ The message read, so he tilted his head in confusion and turned around, eyes scanning the stadium.

He grinned and took off toward the seats at full speed, glad to have his friend show up and support him during training. It was a relief off of his shoulders seeing Messi sitting in the front row, a smile also on his face. He skidded to a halt before colliding with the barrier that separates the seats from the field. He leaned over it and embraced Leo in a bear crushing hug, too excited for his own good. He let go only once his friend grunted and tried to wiggle out of his grip, muttering a quick apology before bouncing on the balls of his feet. Messi had hugged him back, which only inflated his thrill, so much that he almost climbed over the barrier to be closer. He would admit he was a bit sweaty, but he knew Leo wouldn’t mind. He fell back on his heels, still grinning from ear to ear like he was a child at Christmas.

“Hey,” He breathed, voice almost filled with laughter.

“Hi Ney,” Messi replied with his own small smile, looking him up and down.

Neymar fidgeted under his gaze, shifting his weight from side to side restlessly. He felt like running a marathon and if Messi wasn't there, he'd probably be running laps around the stadium. He got such a burst of energy from seeing his friend there since he wasn't able to play or train. It was exhausting not having the best forward to play games with. Ney could handle it, especially when he had Suarez, but it made things a lot easier. He turned his head when he saw someone jog up out of the corner of his eye and smiled again when he noticed it was Dani. He leaned against the barrier, but it wasn't for long because he was almost tackled in a bear hug. He had been good friends with Dani for quite a while and it was nice having his two favourite people around him. He grunted and when Dani let go, he messed up Neymar’s hair and earned a swat to the chest. Dani fake groaned and fell to his knees, throwing his head back while Ney laughed at him.

“You're such a child, Dani,” He said and glanced over at Messi to see what he was doing.

Leo was shaking his head at Dani who was still pretending like he had been shot in the chest. It was times like these that he enjoyed, being able to mess around with good friends and act like kids. Messi seemed too...Messi to do these things, but he knew he liked it, too. It was a good way for him to get his mind off of what happened yesterday, which he still couldn't wrap his mind around. Ronaldo was thirty-five, but his actions proved he still had the mind of a secondary student. What they did would be something a sixteen year old would do, not a fútbol player for Real Madrid. He was glad it hadn't leaked to the media because he would not know how to handle something like that; it would be too much, especially if photos were taken. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, but he collected himself before anyone noticed; now was not the time to worry about petty things like that. 

“Yeah, but you all adore me anyway,” He said, pushing himself up off the ground and slinging an arm around Neymar’s shoulders. “What’s on your mind?”

Neymar shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to get into it. “Nothing, just the up coming game.”

“So how are you feeling, Messi?” Ney asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Sore,” He offered a small smile, but it looked pained, which made Neymar’s heart sink.

Neymar smiled back and reached over to place his hand on his friend’s shoulder, “You’ll be okay soon, back to your old self! Soon people will be chasing you all over these fields again.”

Dani reached over and tugged on his arm to get his attention, as if he somehow forgot how to talk. Neymar shrugged and dropped his arm from Messi’s shoulder and waved a goodbye before following Dani back to the field. He raised his arms above his head and stretched, popping his shoulders in the process, looking around the field for a ball. Every single one of them seemed to be used at that moment, so he continued walking after Dani, and stole the ball that was passed in his direction. He laughed in success, doing his typical Neymar Jr. rocket to keep it away from his friend. He accelerated down the field, being chased by Dani and two to three other players; he wasn't quite sure the amount. Moving quickly towards the goal, he was preparing to score when Dani surpassed him and stole the fútbol. Neymar groaned and skidded to a halt, turning quickly on his heel and went after the defender. They trained for a while, goofing off a bit, but mostly trying to get training in before the game tomorrow. Neymar was admittedly somewhat nervous due to the fact that he was afraid he would have a repeat of yesterday. He looked back at Messi in hopes of seeing some sort of reassurance though he was too far away to notice anything.

Once training was over, Neymar left to go over to where Messi was still seated, giving one of his signature smiles again. His hair was a mess, he was covered in sweat, and he probably smelled like a cow in the hot sun, however he knew everyone was in the same state he was. He leaned on the railing like he did before, trying to catch his breath from the sprint he did to get back over here. Messi reached over and messed up Neymar’s hair, who in turn grunted and chuckled, involuntarily pushing his head up into Leo’s hand. When he realized what he did, he pulled away and quickly searched for some way to strike up a conversation. Leo gave him a quizzical look when he moved, but didn’t say anything, much to Ney’s relief. He always had to do everything to make situations awkward around Messi, but there wasn’t enough time to worry about that.

“You did good,” Lionel praised, causing the younger to grin like a child who received a candy bar.

“Thanks, but I almost lost my cool when Dani stole the ball back,” He replied, smile faltering a bit. “Uh, some of us are going to go get lunch, do you want to join?”

Messi waved a dismissive hand before pointing at his leg, “I would, but it hurts to move around, so I think I’m going to head back home.”

Neymar nodded and reached over for a hug, which was reciprocated, “I’ll text you!”

Leo winked at him, which caused his heart to skip a beat, but he decided to play it off as a friendly notion instead of reading into it. He turned around and caught up with the rest of the team, walking beside Suárez who put an arm around his shoulders as they exited the stadium. The four of them, Suárez, Dani, Piqué, and Neymar all piled into Dani’s reddish orange Audi RS6 Avant C7, Neymar and Suárez in the back and Piqué in the passenger seat in the front. They headed toward Can Fusté Restaurante; Gerard messing with the radio and putting someone on Neymar didn’t recognize. He wanted to drink, get wasted, but he knew that wouldn’t be the best idea to have a hangover the day of a game. He fidgeted slightly, leaned forward in his seat, and looked at the floor board. He was unusually silent, hoping no one would notice, until he got a nudge in the rib cage by an elbow. He scrunched up his face and looked over at Luis next to him, who was looking back at him with slight concern.

“You okay, Ney?” He asked in a low tone, which Neymar replied with a slow nod of his head.

Luis shrugged and turned his attention to Piqué who was jamming out in the front seat, playing an air guitar along with the music. Neymar smiled and rolled his eyes, going back to examining the suddenly interesting floor beneath his feet. He sighed quietly and the only way someone would be able to tell is if they were watching his shoulders, because they rose and fell unnaturally. The mat on the floor was too smooth for him to focus on, there were no ridges, so he decided to look outside as they drove. He attempted to count the trees as they went by, but there were too many for him to keep track of. As he was deciding on something else to do, they stopped, parked at the restaurant. He waited until Dani got out of the car before getting out himself and stretching, something he liked to do, because he was able to feel his muscles pull and relax. A cool breeze was pushing through the air, which felt quite wonderful after a morning training session.

Once inside, Neymar narrowed his eyes against the fluorescent lighting, but they adjusted quickly enough so he could see properly. The second they sat down at a table, he unlocked his phone and texted Messi a photo of all four of them with a message saying that they missed him. Hitting send, he leaned back in his chair and listened as his friends discussed the upcoming game, interjecting here and there. His phone buzzed and he looked down to see a message from Messi; he unlocked it again and smiled at the return photo. Leo was in the passenger seat of a car and giving him a peace sign, which he showed everyone at the table. A server brought their food that they were going to share, Terrine of foie gras with fig jam, and they all placed their drink orders.

“I’ll have Dolç de l’Obac - Priorato and this little guy will take a water,” Luis said with a laugh, nudging him with his elbow.

“I am not a criança,” He muttered, but laughed anyway when the server looked at them in an odd manner. “Noe - Jerez, obrigado.”

Toward the end of their meal and time at the restaurant, Neymar had gotten himself fairly drunk, which is something he did not want to happen. He was giggling and shoving straws behind his top lip, pretending he was a walrus, before laughing so hard they fell out. The only person who stayed sober was Dani, but no one was as drunk as Neymar was. He nearly lost his balance in the chair, but Dani quickly reached over and steadied him. He laughed and poked his arm, muttering something about fútbol and grinning, while Piqué helped him to his feet. He had only a couple glasses, so he was able to support the weight of his friend as he led him to the door. Luis was following while Dani stayed behind to pay, and Neymar ended up breaking away from Gerard to vomit in a bush on the side of the building. He groaned and leaned against the wall, holding his stomach in one hand and his head in the other, closing his eyes. He toed at the ground, digging a small hole into the dirt with his cleat, then rested his foot flat. He opened one eye to squint at Dani who had gone to check on him, bursting into laughter once more.

“D-Dani, hey Dani, who invented the sun?” He stuttered slightly, giggling as he asked the question.

His friend shook his head and grabbed a hold of Neymar, who slumped in his arms, dropping his weight. “You have to walk, Ney.”

Neymar pouted and shook his head, so Dani pulled him to his side and put his arm around his shoulder, holding onto him as they walked to the car. Ney somehow managed to trip going down the curb, but with the other player next to him, he didn’t fall. He yelped when the adrenaline made his heart race, though Dani shushed him softly and placed him in the back of the car. Gerard and Luis got into their respective seats while Alves buckled him in and went into the driver’s seat. Neymar was laughing, then crying, then going silent half of the ride back to the hotel, but when Suàrez showed him a video on his phone, he went back to being happy. He squealed when they hit a pothole and held onto the seat as they went over a speed bump, equating the car ride to a roller coaster. He got his cell phone out, but he couldn’t figure out the lock code, so he tossed it onto the seat next to him and threw his head back to stare at the roof. He began making faces and turning his head so Luis could watch him, ruining them by constantly smiling every time he made a new one. 

He suddenly gasped and grabbed his face, eyes going wide, then he spoke after a gasp, “I can’t feel my face. Do I have a face?” 

Luis laughed and Gerard looked back at them with a grin, shaking his head, while Dani looked back through his rear view mirror. They pulled up to the hotel and once Dani got Neymar out of the car with Gerard’s help, because he was putting up a struggle, he gave the keys to a valet person and took him into the hotel. He helped him get into the elevator and up to his room, but during the elevator ride, Neymar was making up his own lyrics to the music playing inside the machine. He rested his head on Dani’s shoulder as he sang, repeating himself over and over again, much to the players’ annoyance. When the elevator dinged, he loudly announced that the elevator had stopped with a “ding!” and squealed in drunken delight when the doors opened up to let them go through. He stepped onto the floor, gripping Dani tight so he wouldn’t fall through the crack separating the elevator from the ground, because he was definitely convinced he could, and he was taken to his room. 

“But _Dani_ , I don’t _wanna_ go in there. Scary things happen there. I wanna go with Messi,” He complained, whining some of his rooms, but Dani wasn’t listening to him.

Dani grabbed Neymar’s key card and opened the door, helping him to his bed and going to the mini-fridge to get him a bottle of water. Neymar had laid back against the pillows, whining loudly, trying to get his friend to pay attention and listen to him. Dani set the water bottle on the nightstand, dropped a bottle of aspirin next to it, and looked at Neymar in the bed. He offered a smile, looking him up and down, then tossing him the remote to the TV.

“You need to sleep, Ney, just lay there and close your eyes,” He told him and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Neymar whimpered, hiccuping after, and tried to figure out how to use the remote when the room was spinning. Giving up after a few attempts, he pushed himself up to sit in the bed and crawled off the end, falling and landing on the floor. He grunted and managed to pull himself to his feet and stumbled to the door. He opened it and used the wall to support his weight as he walked over to Lionel’s room, knocking every few seconds on the door. Messi eventually opened it up after a couple moments and blocked Neymar’s fist from hitting his chest as he was still knocking. Leo was in a towel, hair, shoulders, chest, and stomach wet from the shower he just got out of. Ney groaned and fell forward against Leo who stumbled backward slightly and closed the door. He moved his friend onto the couch and went to the bathroom to put clothes on, coming back out in some sweatpants and no shirt. He sat next to the Brazilian who was splayed out on the cushions, and ran his fingers through his friend’s hair.

“Are you drunk?” He asked gently, noting the flushed face of the other player.

Neymar nodded, sniffled, and fought back tears, “Ronaldo was so mean, I, he was my idol, and I don’t understand, I don’t…,” He trailed off, closing his eyes and hugging his hands to his chest.

“I know, I know. You need to let it go, though,” Messi replied with a sigh, propping his injured leg up on the coffee table in front of them.

“Can’t,” He murmured, rubbing his face against the couch to wipe his eyes of the tears.

He yawned and passed out to the feeling of Messi’s fingers in his hair, enjoying the comforting sensation. Messi ended up draping a blanket over him and placing a pillow under his head before going to his bed and turning on the television. Neymar had a rather dreamless nap, aside from one, but he would not remember it by the time he woke up. He rolled onto his other side, facing the back of the couch, and grunted in his sleep. It was evening, he was already drunk, and hopefully this nap would help him sleep it off and avoid the hangover the next morning. Leo eventually placed a water bottle next to him so he had something to drink when he woke up, but didn’t provide aspirin. He let out a low whine, curling up into a ball, and sighing heavily as he got comfortable. His back and neck would ache when he got up, but he was in such a deep sleep at this point that he didn’t care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Treinamento - Training.  
> Criança - Child.  
> Obrigado - Thank you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fast, I know, but I'm really excited about it and how it is coming along, so I worked on it every day, every chance I got. No Spanish this time, I think. I'll have to go back and look. Hope you enjoy!!

It was approximately ten at night when Neymar woke, rubbing at his face and looking around the dark room. He saw a glow from the television and a water bottle next to him, so he grabbed it, sat up, and guzzled it down completely. He sighed contently after he got it down, but frowned when there was no medication for him to take. He had a splitting headache and he wished he had brought some to the table before passing out. He squinted against the darkness, trying to gather his senses, when he noticed someone lying on the bed. _What the fuck?_ He didn’t remember that he had come to Messi’s room while drunk, so he was unsure of who was in his room. He tilted his head when he noticed it was his friend, curious about the situation, so he got up off of the couch and walked over to the bed. He looked at Leo, who turned his attention to Neymar standing next to him, smiling a bit.

“Sleep well?” Leo asked, scanning his face probably to make sure he was okay.

Neymar grabbed his own head and sighed softly before responding, “Just have a bad headache, but I slept okay. How did I end up here? I don’t remember a thing.”

“You came in here around midday, knocking on my door, talked about Ronaldo, cried, and then went to sleep. I left you some water, which I see you drank,” He replied, motioning toward the empty bottle laying on the couch.

“Whoa dude, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even realize,” Ney mumbled, rubbing one of his eyes with his knuckle. “Can I sit with you for a little bit or do you want me to go?”

Messi nodded and Neymar climbed into bed with him, laying on his back and looking at the TV. A telenovela was on and he had to do everything not to laugh at his friend for watching it. “You like this stuff?”

Leo smacked him with a pillow and Ney giggled, blocking it with his arm. “No, I lost the remote.” Messi said with a huff, glaring at Neymar.

“I'm sure, Mister Big Shot fútbol player,” He mocked in a playful way, looking around for the remote that Leo lost.

He felt under the blanket, under the pillows, but couldn't find it either. He huffed in dissatisfaction and leaned over the edge of the bed to see if it fell underneath. Noticing it on Messi’s side, he sat back up and leaned over his friend. His hand accidentally brushed against Leo’s groin, feeling him half erect, and immediately jerked his hand back. His breath picked up slightly and he sat up, glancing at the television to see if something on there caused it. Two men were discussing something in Spanish, so he knew it couldn't be that. He could not bring himself to look at Messi, who he was sure was burning a hole into his head with his gaze. Neymar swallowed and got up off the bed, backing up some before turning around. 

“Uh hey, it's getting late, uh, I'm gonna go,” He awkwardly rubbed at his arm, knowing he was blushing intensely. 

He quickly turned around and darted out the door before Leo could get a word out and kept the speed up until he reached his room. He opened the door, closed it, and leaned against the fake wood, sliding down to sit on the ground. He was breathing rapidly and looked for his phone, not finding it with him or on the bed. He tilted his head, but nearly jumped out of his skin when there was a knock at the door. His heart sped up and he closed his eyes, swallowing again and bunching up his hands into fists. He relaxed them when he stood up and turned around to look out the peephole to see who was there, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Dani. He opened the door with a smile and a short laugh, giving him a short hug.

“You left this in my car. Feeling better?” Dani asked, handing him his cell phone.

“Sim, yes,” He replied, taking the phone, but not looking at it; he was too afraid of what he might see.

“Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?” 

“Yeah, see you at the game,”

Dani left and headed down the hall while Neymar shut the door and moved to a chair in the corner of the room. He pulled one leg up onto the seat with him and unlocked his phone, seeing one message waiting for him. He bit his lip as he noticed it was very recent and from Messi, but he couldn't bring himself to read it, so he rested his arm on his knee and held the phone in his fingers. He swung it back and forth in his index and thumb before sighing and setting the phone on a stand next to him before getting up. A shower would help calm his mind, he decided, so he took his jersey off and tugged down the shorts.

He kicked the cleats off and got rid of the socks, finally letting his boxers drop. He pushed the clothes a bit with his foot and shuffled into the bathroom, shutting the door, but not locking it. Sleeping on a couch left him with a sore body and the hangover gave him a nasty headache, but stepping under hot water alleviated everything temporarily. He ran his hands through his hair, sighing in relief, and massaged his temples to help him relax. He wasn’t sure if he was tired any more, from the long nap he had in Leo’s room, but he figured after his shower he would try to sleep again. 

After the shower he dried off and left the towel on the rack, exiting the bathroom and grabbed some boxers out of the bag he had. He slipped them on, took five aspirin that was sitting on his nightstand from earlier, and laid down in the bed. Neymar crawled under the covers and grabbed his phone, sighing at the two texts that were there. He ignored them and turned the television on to watch whatever was there and brought up Snapchat. He took a photo of the screen, added some laughing emoticons, and sent it to his story. He closed the program and set the phone on the pillow next to him, stretching out on the mattress. 

After a couple hours of not being able to crash, he got up out of the bed and slipped a pair of black skinny jeans on and a muscle shirt with elongated arm holes, putting on some Nike shoes. He grabbed his keys out of old pants, put his phone in his pocket, and left the hotel room, looking down toward Messi’s, but going to the elevator instead of allowing himself to head down that way. He pressed the button to go to the ground floor and leaned against the bar that went around the walls. He took his cell phone out to check the time, reading fifteen past midnight, then put it away. He didn't want to talk to anyone right now, none of his team members, or any other friend he had.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened, showing him the lobby. He stepped out and glanced around, making sure there wasn't anybody wanting to chase him for a signature, and walked out the door. Another check as he went to his car, an Audi R8, but realized he was safe. He opened the door and got in, strapping the seat belt on and putting the keys in the ignition. He turned over the engine and put it in reverse, turning to make sure nothing was in his way as he backed out, put it in drive, and left the hotel parking lot. He drove down the road, flipping the headlights on, adjusting his mirrors, and tightening the belt around his hips. People were still out, walking, driving, and biking, representing the busy city in itself. He tapped his fingers against the wheel, dropping one arm and maintaining the steering with one hand. He narrowed his eyes against the brights of another driver and sighed, heading toward the Balearic Sea. He needed to get his mind off of things and going out there seemed to be the best idea at the moment.

He parked at Platja de la Mar Bella and got out, shifting his feet in the sand and locking up the car. He left his phone inside, not wanting anything to do with it at the current moment. Ney wandered slowly toward the water, turning at the edge, and went alongside of it, occasionally looking at the moon. He stopped at some point, about less than quarter of a kilometer away from his vehicle and took off his shirt, shoes, socks, and pants, leaving them piled up on the beach. He went forward, allowing the water to pool up around his ankles, before he got waist deep in the sea. He sighed and shivered, realizing the water was fairly cold, but stayed in there. It was relaxing to say the least and he was alone, so he could be with his thoughts without worrying about who would knock on his door or ring him. He kept moving until he was chest deep, treading water slightly, and laid on his back. It was a calm night, so he wasn't assaulted by waves while he lay there, which helped add to the serenity.

Neymar chewed on his lip and frowned as he thought about earlier, letting negative thoughts cloud his mind. He didn't want to cry, no, but he did want to scream at the top of his lungs to air out his frustration at himself. He wished his hand never brushed against Leo in that way; he was almost positive his friend felt violated. His mind partially convinced him that the messages on his phone would be telling him how he screwed up, how he was a failure, or how he doesn't deserve being with Barçelona. Deep down he knew Messi wouldn't be like that, he wasn't a cruel man, and he had been taking care of Ney a lot when he was injured himself. He closed his eyes and let the water move him, not bothering to kick or push with his arms. It helped relax his muscles and take out the last bit of the headache that was lingering in his skull.

He opened his eyes and turned his head when he heard tires screech and someone running on the sand. His heartbeat picked up, but he dared not to move, worried about what was going on. Someone shouted his name, but he was too far out to discern the voice and attach it to a face. He could somewhat make out the figure as Dani, so he rolled onto his stomach and swam back toward the shore. He wrapped his arms around himself as he got up onto the sand and approached the man, wondering why he was followed. Dani immediately wrapped a towel around his body and pulled him close into a hug, sighing and resting his chin on top of his head. Neymar didn't struggle, enjoying the attention and company.

“Jesus Ney, do you realize the time?” He asked softly, fear lacing his words.

Neymar shook his head, leaning against Dani and listened as he spoke again, “It’s 4:30am. I came to check on you once more to make sure you were alright, but you didn't answer. I asked Piqué, Rakitić, Iniesta, Messi, and some others, though no one knew where you were. We decided to call you and text, no answer, so we agreed to track you and I came out to find you.”

“Sorry,” He murmured, closing his eyes and shivering again from the cold. “I did something bad, Dani, real bad, and I fucked things up, so I came out here. I needed to get away, I didn't keep track of the time.”

Neymar didn't realize he had been out there for hours, considering he was lost in thought most of the time, but he was glad Dani came out here more than anything. His best friend was someone he needed at this point, even though he knew he could never tell him what he did wrong or his secret. No one knew he liked Messi, no one knew he liked guys, it was all kept inside his mind and desires. He didn't even tell his own family, not like he would ever, but he couldn't tell even tell Dani. He pulled himself out of Dani’s embrace and the two of them walked over to a bench at the edge of the beach, bordering the parking lot. 

“Tell me what's going on, Ney. We can work it out, we can fix it. Just tell me,”

“I can't,” He replied, voice barely audible.

Tears welled up in his eyes so he reached up with the back of his hand to wipe them away so they wouldn't fall. All he could hear in his head was his subconscious screaming _”Failure, failure, failure!”_ over and over again. He shook, this time it wasn't the cold to blame, for a second and pulled his knees up onto the bench and rested his forehead on top of them. A comforting arm went around his back and he was pulled close to his friend, so he sighed deeply, but didn't raise his head. He couldn't say anything to tell him what happened, he would be labeled a freak, lose his career, and go back to Brazil where he wouldn't have a family or home. Bi-sexuality was even more frowned upon than homosexuality and he knew some of the people he loved and cared about didn't approve of it.

Dani was about to speak when another car rolled up and a person got out. He didn't bother looking himself, knowing it was just another teammate, and it would just make matters worse. He only wanted to be around Dani right now and he was relishing in the comfort and warmth of the older man. He thought back to when he had a small crush on him, but it was due to the fact that Dani acted like a father figure to the group and he enjoyed the sense of dominance the other Brazilian displayed. He curled into his side more and hid his face completely in his own arms, listening as the second person approached. They were all silent, Dani rubbing soothing motions into his back, watching the third person.

“Hey,” The voice of none other than Lionel Messi graced his ears and he cringed. “I'm glad you found him, I was worried. Can, can I speak with him alone?”

Dani nodded and released his hold on Neymar, who whimpered quietly and tightened his grip on his legs. He did not want to be alone with Messi, especially at a beach where his mind could come up with any random fantasy at any moment. He couldn't bring himself to look up as he heard Dani walk back to his own vehicle and registered that he was fully alone with the other forward. He swallowed hard, but didn't move or make any other sound. They both were silent for the moment, which further escalated Neymar being uncomfortable. It was awkward and he wanted to escape it all, hide himself away in this bench and never do anything again. He had no idea how he would face Messi right now and it scared him to the core. He knew the conversation would be about what happened back at the hotel and he wanted to escape from it. Slowly standing up, he kept his gaze fixated on the sand below, and began walking to his car, hoping Leo would just let him go. 

“Don't walk away from me this time,” Messi commanded, an air of dominance ringing around him.

He immediately stopped in his tracks and went back to the bench, still refusing to look up at him. “I'm glad you're okay, we were all scared,” He continued. “We need to talk, though.”

Neymar slumped back onto the bench and rested his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands. He didn't want to talk, he didn't want to be here, but somehow he knew he couldn't leave, especially with how attractive Messi was when he was controlling. He never expected his quiet friend to talk this much, but he seemed to have a lot on his mind. Ney didn't blame him, but he wished he could go back in time and undo what had happened. He was making such a fuss over accidentally touching him and it was eating him alive inside. He was sure the man was disappointed, embarrassed, and angry, so he let his mind go back to the destructive thoughts he had before.

Lionel’s voice cut through the air like a sharp knife, “Neymar da Silva Santos Jr., look at me.”

Neymar’s head immediately shot up at the use of his full name, something he wasn't entirely used to, especially when done by another player. He looked at Messi, admiring how the moonlight reflected off of his brunet hair, but could not look him in the eye. He felt shame, he felt unwanted, and he felt hated; he dared not try to see it in his friend’s gaze. Leo approached him and stood in front of him, reminding Neymar of who had control, before sitting down in the sand. It was a bit of a struggle, he noticed, because of his healing injury, but he extended his leg to accommodate. The younger man put his hands over his face, but they were immediately removed, not by his own doing. 

“Don't hide from me. Running away from your problems won't solve them, it will only give them a chance to slam into you when you're not paying attention,” His tone was softer this time, “What happened in the hotel was an accident, it's okay, I forgive you.”

Neymar’s breath came out shaky, as well as his voice when he tried to speak. When nothing came out, he closed his eyes and let out a soft sound which sounded pained. Messi reached over and laid a hand on his knee, rubbing the side of it with his thumb to try to get him to relax. There was nothing he could do except sit there and fidget slightly when he felt an erection growing in his pants. The boxers would make it obvious, so he tried to think of everything he could to keep it down. When the hand went a little higher he whimpered, knowing he couldn't fight what was going on between his legs. The breeze did nothing to help him and he frowned, biting and chewing his lip hard enough to fill his mouth slightly with the coppery tang of blood. It was only a few droplets which he whisked away with his tongue, but he did wipe it on the towel that was draped around his shoulders. When he attempted to speak again, he was somewhat more successful than before.

“I-I,” He couldn't get the words out. “I like you, Lionel Messi.”

His face flushed hot and he turned away, moving sideways on the bench and burying his face in his arms. His heart was racing once more and he felt a couple tears escape down his face. The world seemed like it was collapsing around him, everything seemed like it was ending, and the silence was back again. He was near hyperventilation and he couldn't calm himself down, especially since Messi hadn't replied yet. He wasn't even sure if he was still there, as Neymar’s own breathing drowned out the sounds around him. The only thing he could hear was the sea hitting the shore, so he didn't notice when Messi got up and joined him on the bench. He froze when arms went around his stomach and held onto him tightly, knowing it was a gesture of comfort and refusing to believe it could be anything else. His breathing slowed and he looked down at the tattooed muscular arms holding him.

“I like you, too, Ney.” The hot breath hit the back of his neck, causing him to almost reel. 

No, that couldn't be possible or real, he had to be dreaming, or maybe he drowned and this was some weird fucked up heaven he was transported to. Neymar held his breath until his lungs strained and forced him to exhale harshly through his mouth and inhale deeply through his nose. He looked back at Messi, who was looking off in the distance, focusing on something Neymar didn't see. He turned his head to try to find Dani’s car, but he had left to the hotel already. It was late, probably around 5am by now and he was feeling tired, but he had to figure out what was going on.

“You're lying,” He finally whispered, gaining confidence to talk.

The arms around him tightened a bit more and relaxed to where they were before, “No Neymar, I really do like you. That semi-hard on you felt wasn't because of the lady on the telenovela.”

He didn't know what to do or how to process that information, so he stayed quiet as he thought about it. Leo Messi, liking him? That couldn't be possible, the legend was as straight as a rod, or apparently a rod that curved. He closed his eyes once more and yawned, feeling the effects of sleepiness setting in on him. A hand slipped low onto his belly and he jumped, which made it go back to its original place on his abdomen. Neymar opened his eyes and blinked, turning back to see him again, only to be met with a gaze that was caring in its own sense. What could he do now? Messi just admitted he liked him and was getting turned on by his presence and Neymar couldn't even react or reply. He had no idea how he would get through the game tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please keep in your thoughts the victims of an ISIS attack in Iraq. They were Real Madrid fans/supporters. 12 people killed this time around. Last time, earlier this month, at least 20 were killed. This was a senseless attack on innocent people. They did not deserve this. Keep their families and their friends in your thoughts and prayers. Rest in peace<3.
> 
> Sorry that I skipped through the game, I just didn't have the motivation or energy to detail it all. I hope you guys like this! If so, comments are very much appreciated and they help me continue writing<3\. Thank you all who have been reading so far, it means quite a lot to me. This chapter is longer than usual and it was supposed to be a lot longer, but I completely forgot where I was going with it. I don't think any Spanish/Portuguese is in this, but if so, I will post in the end notes if I catch it. It took me a while to get this chapter out because I have been trying to get started on EMT classes, but I got a very low score on the entrance exam, so I cannot start until fall, and I was pretty depressed about it yesterday. Just going to try to drown myself in NeyMessi stuff. Thank you again, though! PS; this gets sexual.
> 
> Also kind of dialogue heavy, but it was necessary!

Three days had passed since the interaction with Messi on the beach and he hadn't talked to him at all. They played through the Athletic Bilbao game, FC Barçelona winning two to one; Neymar getting the last ball in. Neither Suárez or Leo had played the game, so he was practically alone, being the tail end of the Trident. It was comforting to know that Dani was there playing with him, but he still wished he had Messi to score alongside. They had all gone back to their homes this time, leaving behind the hotel they were staying at in Bilbao. Neymar was currently curled up on his bed, holding onto his phone and waiting for someone to text him, anyone. When an hour passed and he got nothing, he got up and went downstairs. Sighing, he set the phone on a table and checked the fridge for alcohol. He wouldn't consider himself an alcoholic, but he did want to forget any emotion bubbling up inside of him. Not finding any, he grumbled and slammed it shut, turned on his heel and picked up his phone again. He unlocked it via thumbprint which Dani convinced him to use and went to his contacts, scrolling down to Leo’s name.

Hitting the name and the phone symbol next to it, he placed it against his ear and tapped his foot impatiently. Messi couldn't leave him hanging like this especially since they both declared attraction for each other. It rang a few times before going to voicemail, the voice on the end instructing him to leave a name, number, and information after the beep. He quickly ended the call and checked the time, realizing that at this moment, 2pm, Messi was getting the last couple rounds of therapy in for his knee injury. It was practically healed, but Enrique still refused to take any chances with his legend. Neymar rolled his eyes at the thought, wishing he would just let him play, because everything would have been better for all of them. He scratched at his head and went into the living room, sat on the couch, and turned his attention to the television. He picked up the remote and turned it on, letting himself get lost in music videos that were playing. Neymar’s stomach growled slightly, though he ignored it because he didn't want to get up and move around again. He was battling his emotions, sadness, fear, which were just topped off with anger at himself. Why did he admit he liked Messi? He was so stupid! It's not like the man could _actually_ be attracted to him in that way, boner or not. Dicks meant nothing in that situation. He laid back on the cushions and propped his head up with a couch pillow, letting one arm fall off the edge and the other go across his chest. He stared at the TV, watching people dance around and sing, before shutting it off with a noise of disapproval. He wanted to play video games, but for once he didn't feel like doing anything. He didn't want to function, really, and the next game wasn't for four days, so he could zone out for a while until someone wanted his attention. He got a text from Geri asking him if he was okay because no one had heard from him for a while, but he replied saying he was and he just needed to relax. 

No one knew about Messi and his interaction on the beach, not even Dani, because he had left shortly after Messi took over. Neymar replayed that moment repeatedly in his head; the dominating and strong commands the older man gave him sent shivers down his spine. Sometimes he could feel Leo’s arms wrapped around his stomach and his warm breath against the nape of his neck. It was exhilarating and he wanted more of it, he craved more of it, and every second that went by, he became more addicted to Messi. He loved the smell of him, his muscles, the way he smiled, his protective nature, and everything else to do with the man. He ended up sliding his hand down to the bulge in his pants and massaged it for a few moments as he thought about what sex with him would be like, but stopped when there was a knock at the door. He raised an eyebrow and pulled himself up off the couch and shuffled to the door, looking out a side window to see who it was. Gerard, Dani, and Andrés stood in front of the door, looking excited and impatient with having to wait. He frowned and moved from the window, reached into his jeans and adjusted himself so he didn't have a bulge, and opened the door with a grin. 

“Hola Neymar!” Andrés greeted while all three of them let themselves inside. 

“Hey guys, what's up? Thanks for calling to say you were coming over,” He replied with a laugh, hugging everyone individually. 

Gerard was at his fridge stuffing his face full of something while replying, “You haven't been the same since that night when we couldn't find you. We came to see if you were okay.” 

“Yeah, we miss our spunky Neymar,” Dani followed the response as he went to go sit on Neymar’s couch. 

“I'm fine guys, really,” He smiled again and followed Alves with Andrés right behind him. 

“It's not like you to isolate yourself,” Iniesta said, walking around the living room, looking at things he has already seen before. 

Ney shrugged and sat on the armrest, watching Gerard near the refrigerator making himself a sandwich. He shook his head and rested his hands on his thighs, rolling his eyes when Gerard exclaimed that he was almost out of deli meat. Dani had laid down on the couch and propped his legs up on Neymar’s thighs, causing him to move his hands away. He leaned back against the back of the couch to support himself better and Iniesta finally joined them, sitting on the floor. Neymar stared at him, tilting his head, wondering why he decided to join Gerard and Dani in coming over here. Usually he was with some other player, but he blew it off as concern. There was something comforting about having his friends around him and he couldn't help but smile as he pulled his gaze away from Andrés. 

“Hey, I mean, good game guys. We kicked Bilbao’s ass,” Iniesta spoke with a sideways grin, looking from one to the other. 

“Yeah, we did great. And Ney, good job stealing the ball from Aduriz. You scored beautifully,” Gerard complimented, walking over with three sandwiches. 

Neymar blinked at him, one eyebrow raised, “Did you use all my meat?” 

Gerard stared back, stopping mid track, a goofy grin on his face, “Sure did,” He replied, continuing his walk into the living room. He plopped himself down onto a chair and began eating, listening to the conversation being had. 

“I could have done better if Luis or Messi were there. Man, I'm sorry guys, I've just been out of it lately,” Neymar murmured, running his hands down his face. 

“Sorry for what? You got the last goal. It was wonderful and I'm sure Messi and Luis were happy,” Dani told him, using his foot to nudge Ney’s arm. 

His phone notified him of a text message with a sound and he immediately yanked it out of his pocket to see who it was. Messi’s name flashed across the screen and he grinned, excited as he unlocked it and went to the messaging application. _”Sorry, was in therapy. Are you okay?”_ The message read and he suddenly wondered why everyone was curious about his state. Sure, he hadn't been around anyone much in the last three days, sure he didn't text Messi or call him since the instance at the beach, and sure he didn't play at his top performance, but why was everyone on his case? Couldn't he be alone for a bit and not get questioned? He furrowed his eyebrows at that thought, remembering that it wasn't like him to do any of those things. Everyone expected him to be hyperactive, excited, and talking nonstop about everything he could talk about. He sighed and got up off of the couch and went down the hallway, up the stairs, to his room, and left everyone behind. He heard his name being called in question, but he was too focused on Messi right now to be bothered to say where he was going. He immediately called his friend, hoping to talk to him on the phone instead of through text, and it was answered after the second ring. 

There was silence from both ends, neither of them sure when to talk, until Leo did, “Hello?” 

Neymar inhaled sharply, voice cracking slightly as he replied, “H-hey.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Sure Leo, I'm fine,” 

“I'm going to stop by later, is that alright? Just finished therapy and I need to eat something.” 

“Yeah, that's good. That's fine. How did therapy go?” 

“It went well, this is my last time the doctor said. I can go back to playing in a couple weeks, as long as Enrique listens,” 

Neymar’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of being able to play with Leo again on the field. “Awesome, I'm so happy everything is okay. I was worried about you. We all miss you.” 

“Miss you, too, Ney. I need to go, I'll see you later,” 

“Okay, be safe, bye,” 

“Bye,” 

Neymar hung up the phone and took a deep shuddering breath as he tried to get his composure. His heart was racing thirty miles an hour, he was sure of it, as he thought of Leo coming over to his house. It was nothing new, the entire team had been over before, but being alone with him after they said they liked each other, that was going to be weird. Pocketing his phone again, he left his room and ambled into the living room where the boys were playing video games. It was FIFA ‘16, which was typical, but kind of weird watching the players play soccer in a game. He sat in between Iniesta and Dani, resting back against the couch, and placed his hands on his chest. No one greeted him except for Gerard who looked up and the second he did, lost the ball to a virtual player. Dani and Andrés groaned in succession and when Piqué looked back at the screen, he paused it. Dani got up and took the controller from him, unpausing it and playing himself. 

Neymar hiccuped and pulled his arms inside of his shirt to mess around with the cross necklace he was wearing, getting comfortable on the couch. Gerard made Andrés switch places with him and Ney leaned over and rested his head on his shoulder. Piqué wrapped an arm around him and watched Dani get frustrated over kicking the ball into the post instead of the net. Neymar wasn't watching, he was too lost in his thoughts about Messi and what was going to happen when he got there. He chewed on the inside of his lip and kept twirling the bottom of the cross in his fingers, mindlessly doing so instead of paying attention to anyone. Dani slammed the controller down on his own legs and threw his hands up in the air when he lost the game that was being played. Neymar chuckled a bit, but got himself up when Dani suggested that they were all going to leave. He gave hugs to everyone, except a side hug to Andrés, and followed them to the door when they left. He waved a goodbye and shut the door, going back to grab Piqué’s plate and placed it in the sink; he would deal with it later. 

Two hours had passed and he had crashed on the chair Andrés was sleeping in, hat he put on resting over his eyes. It was a nice relaxing cat nap, but he was startled awake by more knocking at the door. He grumbled some Portuguese curses under his breath and rubbed his eyes as he answered the door. He looked through the peephole to see Messi standing there, smiling awkwardly. Neymar was elated and when he opened the door, he gave his friend a bone crushing hug, which was returned with the same strength. He turned around and led Messi inside, humming a tune with happiness. There was a small bounce in his step and he grinned when Leo shut the door behind him, heart racing with excitement. He faced his friend and balanced his weight on one leg, letting the other go slack. Messi smiled at him and closed the space between them to give him a hug. It lasted longer than normal, but Neymar had to pull himself away because he swore his heart was very audible. He chewed on his lip and Messi reached over, running his thumb along it. 

“You're going to make it bleed,” He murmured, and Neymar immediately released it from his teeth. 

“Bad habit,” He replied softly, moving his weight to his other leg. 

“I know, you do it all the time,” 

Neymar smiled sheepishly and backed up, going into the kitchen for something to drink. He was parched, suddenly craving water or Gatorade to help him calm down, because he swore he was acting like a teenager. He grabbed a water bottle and unscrewed the cap, turning to face Messi as he drank it down, the coolness making him sigh in content. Messi was staring at him, seemingly curious, about what, Neymar had no idea. They seemed to me stuck in time, the only movement was from Ney drinking, both watching each other carefully. His eyes went down to the shorter man’s chest, fascinated as it rose and fell with his breathing. moving further to his hips, wondering what they would feel like under his hands, onto his legs, interested in how they carried him as he ran and wishing he could run his tongue along his calves, and stopping at his feet, smiling as he imagined cleats instead of normal shoes. Lionel cleared his throat causing Neymar to look back up at his face, scanning it, before closing his eyes and finishing his drink. This was probably the longest silence he had experienced outside of prayer and church when he was able to go. His phone notified him in that moment that he had a text message, so he brought it out and checked it. He furrowed his eyebrows when he noticed it was a video and when he pressed play, he almost spit out the last bit of water that was in his mouth. It was of him drunk inside the restaurant some days back with the title reading, “Wasted Neymar - FCB's embarassment”; the message was from Luis. He growled in anger and threw his phone at the couch, watching it hit the side and falling onto the ground. 

“Filho da puta!” He exclaimed, grabbing a fist full of his own hair and slamming the other fist down onto the counter. 

Messi was about to react when his phone went off as well, so he looked at the message, played the video, then looked at his friend, “Hey, relax Ney. It’s okay.” 

“No! It’s _not_ okay! This is fucking embarrassing!” He yelled, repeatedly hitting the counter. 

“Yes it is, take a breath,” 

“Fuck you!” 

Neymar took off to his bedroom, leaving Leo behind in the kitchen, regretting what he had said, but not being able to do anything about it. Messi followed him and placed his hand on the door, stopping it from being closed, and went in with him. Neymar backed himself up into a corner, feeling like a scared animal, but he was still enraged. Suddenly, Messi was in front of him, leaving no room for escape, and grabbed his chin to make him look at him. They stared at each other again, this time only momentarily, as Neymar looked off to the side, trying to grind his teeth. He didn’t want to calm down, he was embarrassed and worried about what people would say, what it would mean for his career. It wouldn’t mean much honestly, people have done worse, but he was insecure about his life in fútbol. No one would let him go and Enrique would have to have lost his mind to cut him from the team, though he still panicked. His mind replayed the video over and over again, fueling the rage building up inside him, and if it were anyone other than Messi, he’d probably have hit him by now. 

“Don’t talk to me like that, Neymar. Calm yourself down,” 

“Shut the fuck up! I’m so tired of this, I’m so tired of everyone treating me like shit, like I’m some sort of piece of fresh meat,” He exclaimed in response, voice pained. 

“Everyone is treated like shit in their lives, this is no different, nothing special,” 

Neymar’s chest ached and his vision was turning white, “Shut the fuck up, pinche pendejo!” 

An erection was building in between his legs and he was completely unsure how it could be possible due to the fact that his face was heating up. He immediately regretted calling Leo that, especially since he was grabbed and pushed onto the bed. He quickly sat up, eyes watering as he realized what he did; afraid that he had just got rid of his friend for good. He wiped at them, though he didn’t have much time to do so, because Messi was standing in front of him for the third time. When he acknowledged his presence, he noticed how close he really was, and saw a rather stiff erection in his friend’s jeans. His own was getting harder fast to the point where it was becoming slightly painful, but he dared not to move. The tension was thick and the room was hot and he swallowed when Messi unbuttoned his own pants. The zipper followed and he tugged them down, over the bulge, and allowed them to rest on his thighs. The boxers followed, showing a rather thick and hard cock resting against his stomach. It throbbed slightly and Neymar almost came in his pants, but he knew that would not happen without stimulation. 

“Suck,” Leo commanded, staring down at him with a glare. 

He moved closer and Neymar began to breathe out if his mouth, looking up for permission. When he received a nod in return, he immediately wrapped his hand around the length and moved it to his face, taking the head into his mouth. He felt Leo tense up and exhale with the pleasure as Neymar flicked his tongue across the tip and down around the crown of the head. He slid off the bed and onto his knees, sliding one hand up to cup his ass and moved his other one up and down the shaft quickly. He felt a bit of shaking from the other man’s legs and let his hand go up to his hip to steady him, but moved back to its original position on his dick. He attempted to deepthroat while massaging himself through his own clothes, but ended up gagging and choking. He pulled back and grimaced, though went back to sucking on the head. Leo grabbed his hand and moved it away from his own dick and he whined in protest, yet continued to work on the blow job. 

“Teeth, teeth, ah,” Messi complained and Neymar gave a lick below the head as an apology. 

He began to bob his head back and forth, reaching down to touch his balls, and earned a quiet moan when he did so. It was ever so soft that Ney wasn’t quite sure he heard it, until he did it again. Messi started to rock his hips forward, almost as if he was fucking him, and he felt a hand go into his hair. It was tugged on somewhat and he groaned himself, the vibrations nearly making Leo lose his balance. It was a turn on and he wished he could touch his own cock because it was becoming a lot more painful in the pants he was wearing. He had to admit his mouth was getting a bit sore, but the thrusting was helping alleviate him needing to suck a lot. Messi grunted above him and bent forward, so Neymar reached up and placed his hand on his abdominal muscles under his shirt to feel them contract as he came into his mouth. Neymar immediately recoiled and didn’t give it a second thought as he got up and ran into the bathroom. He stood there for a moment in panic before swallowing the load in his mouth and rinsing it out. The warm saltiness tasted horrible and he had to grab the mouthwash to help get it out completely. He gasped and shuddered, wiped his face off, and sulked back into the room. 

“Sorry,” He muttered an apology, staring down at the ground out of worry. It was the first time he had done this with another male, so it was a bit of a shock to have cum in his mouth. 

“S’fine,” Messi replied hazily, but walked himself over to the Brazilian and dropped to his knees himself. 

Neymar’s eyes went wide when he found his pants being undone and pushed down to his ankles as well as the boxer-briefs. Messi didn’t hesitate to bring his erection into his mouth, looking up at him, as he took it all the way to the base. Neymar’s eyes rolled back into his head as he moaned, reaching down to fist his hair, almost wanting to replicate what Leo had done to him before. Messi was skillfully sucking him, leaving tantalizingly slow licks from the base to the tip of his dick, obviously enjoying the sounds Neymar was making. He was shaking himself and his knees felt weak when Leo stopped blowing him and switched to a hand job. His hand was moving fast and Ney found himself needing to lean against the wall for support as he groaned and panted. He was loud and tried to convince himself that he didn’t care in this moment, which he finally did right before he came. Messi was teasing the slit as he let the orgasm rip through him, closing his eyes tight, but internally frowning when he felt his friend move away. 

“Didn’t know you could shoot,” Messi murmured, moving to place open mouthed kisses up and down his thigh. 

Neymar laughed and exhaled a shaky breath, looking down at him and allowing himself to slide down onto the floor. He let his legs stay wide open, too sensitive to touch, while he watched Messi through half-lidded eyes. His face and chest were hot, so he moved quick to remove his shirt; sweat sticking to it. Messi fell back to sit on the floor as well, watching Neymar with a smile. He kicked his pants and boxers off, standing up, but almost losing his balance. He caught himself on the wall with an awkward laugh and stumbled into the bathroom. He was trying to steady his breathing as he leaned against the counter and stared at himself in the mirror, wondering if _that_ just happened. He turned the sink on and splashed cold water onto his face, allowing it to run down his back and front. He shivered at the contrast of temperatures, so he reached over and grabbed the small towel hanging on the ring near the mirror. He wiped the water off and turned to lean against the door frame. He flashed a toothy grin as he stared at his friend, then approached him and sat down in front of him, crossing his legs. 

“So are we together?” Neymar ventured quietly, scanning Leo’s eyes for some sort of reaction. 

Leo’s eyes flickered and he visibly took a deep breath, unsure of how to respond, “I don’t know.” 

Neymar frowned and looked down, only to look back up with a smile, “Will you let me know when you know?” 

Lionel nodded and Neymar sighed in relief, hoping that none of this would destroy their friendship, because he did not know what he would do if Messi was gone from his life. 

“You have amazing tongue skills,” Neymar murmured and chewed on his lip, smile gracing his face once more. 

“Yeah, and you bite,” 

Neymar laughed and pushed Messi’s shoulder, who slightly grinned in return, while Ney pulled one leg up to his chest, wrapped his arms around it, rested his chin on his knee and continued to watch his friend. He wasn’t even quite sure what time it was, but at this moment he didn’t care. He was still enjoying the euphoria from blowing Leo and receiving it in return, knowing the only time he thought he would have gotten this was in his dreams. He hummed a soft tune and got up off the carpet, left to the kitchen, and came back with a couple of water bottles. He offered one to the other, who accepted it gratefully, and immediately chugged it down. Ney raised his eyebrow while Messi wiped his mouth, sighing contently. Ney laughed softly and sat on the bed, drinking his bottle a little slower, replaced the cap, and laid back on the bed. He stared at the ceiling, shifting over when he felt a weight next to him on the bed, and moved his arm so it rested across a muscular chest. He focused on Messi breathing steadily and glanced over at him, noticing his eyes were closed, but he was not asleep. What could he be thinking about?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so there was a LOT of Spanish/Portuguese/Slang, LOL.
> 
> Hola - Hello.
> 
> Filho da puta - Son of a bitch!
> 
> Pinche pendejo - Fucking dumbass.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forewarning: There is a DREAM sex scene involving Dani Alves, so if that's not your thing or you're bothered by it, feel free to scroll passed the block of italicized words.
> 
> Ugh, I totally suck for not updating. Busy again, yes, that's my excuse. I'm starting college officially on the 29th and a teacher said that it was a very tough class to take with a high drop out rate (EMT-B), but I'm prepared. My mum will help me as she was an EMT-B for five years and I have a friend going to be a nursing student. That said, I will try to update sooner, but with school, my activity may still be affected. I apologize to you all. I know some of you have been waiting.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. Things are going to take some turns here soon. They might get very, very dark. It just happens to be where my mind is taking this story. Feel free to stop reading the fic now. 
> 
> Please comment!! I hate asking for that, always have when posting things online and I'm not trying to be that annoying person who is like "oh I NEVER ask for these things". Honestly, I use comments as my drive to keep writing. I know I should write for myself and all, but I like knowing people like what I write. Even a short comment helps, like, "Great chapter, keep writing!" or something like that.
> 
> Almost done with my drabble in this summary, bear with me. If there is any Spanish or Portugese in this, I'll check it later to do translations. It's 4:15am and I need to sleep.
> 
> Ps; My boyfriend and I went to see Copa America Centenario, Argentina VS US and at the end, Messi was walking toward where we were standing and I waved to him and he waved back!!!! I'll tell the full story some other day. :)

Eventually the two had fallen asleep next to each other, drifting off into a nap, Neymar cuddling up against Messi for his body heat since they weren’t under covers. He rested his head on Messi’s bicep and probably drooled a little bit on his arm, but neither of them cared. He rolled onto his side and pressed his back against Leo, sighing contently as he slept. Messi barely moved, which was a nice change from the night in the hotel, when he literally battled limbs so he didn’t wake up with bruises. He was grateful that he got his sheets washed yesterday because they retained the linen fresh scent which had helped lull him to sleep. He gripped the sheet slightly, curling his fingers around the threaded cloth and yawned, yanking it over himself and rolling the other way, successfully wrapping it around himself. He moved his head from Leo’s bicep and onto his chest, the movement of his friend’s chest bringing him comfort. The muscle was almost rock hard, but for some reason, he found it comfortable to lay on. Within forty-five minutes of sleeping, he was thrust into a dream, one full of sex and more than one person.

_Neymar found himself in a rather peculiar position, one he was definitely not used to, dream world or real life. His hands were tied up above his head, wrists wrapped in a soft rope-like material, and he was on his back on a bed. He didn’t recognize the bed or the room, but what he could recognize, was that he was stripped naked and his legs were bent at an awkward angle. Someone entered the room rather quickly, taking strides toward the bed, nude as well. He could not make out who it was, though he could see the person held a bottle in one hand. The person slid up between his legs and leaned down over him, pressing a rough kiss against his lips, tugging at his teeth, and emitting a low growl. Neymar moaned underneath the body, softly, but it was audible. The person above him chuckled and his own cock pressed against the stomach of whoever it was. He narrowed his eyes and a light popped on, causing him to grimace against the brightness illuminating the room. The walls were an off red colour and the light was a dull red, leaving the place rather ominous. The sheets were white as well as the pillow he was resting his head on, yet he fixated mostly on the other presence in the room. Leo was kneeling over him, slicking something on his dick, and rubbing it up and down, breathing heavily with each stroke._

_Neymar whined softly, desperate for whatever was going to happen, attempting to buck his hips up in want, but they were pressed back down by a firm hand. Another wrapped around his own cock, stroking it, while he maneuvered himself between Neymar’s legs. Messi lifted his hips up and he closed his eyes, waiting, breathing slowly from his mouth, excited about what was happening. Leo pushed into him at a gentle pace; Neymar finding himself already prepped to take his friend’s cock. Neymar let out a groan and arched his neck, panting slightly, while his friend slowly pulled out and pushed back in, teasing him. It was at that point that someone else entered the room, though he didn’t notice until the person also joined him on the bed. He opened his eyes slightly, moaning quietly as Messi kept up the same pace. He clawed at nothing, trying to gain purchase, but being tied up, he was not going to grab ahold of anything._

_“Open,” The other person commanded and he obliged, opening his mouth, and the person slid their cock past his lips and into his mouth._

_He ran his tongue up and down the shaft, teasing the head, looking up to see who he was sucking off. His heart skipped a beat or two when he noticed it was Dani, yet he didn’t have much time to react as Messi pushed deeper and started moving at a harder pace. He groaned against the cock in his mouth, moving somewhat on the bed, and sucking harder. Dani was rocking his hips forward and backward, fucking his mouth, while Messi was doing the same to his ass, and all Neymar wanted to do was run his fingernails across both of their bodies. When Leo hit his prostate he almost gagged on Dani’s cock, groaning loudly with pleasure, tensing up and closing his eyes tightly. The intense pleasure was only amplified when Leo wrapped his hand back around his dick and went back to stroking. Neymar writhed underneath Dani, trying his best to continue blowing him, but his vision was turning a stark white as Leo kept pounding against his prostate. Heat rose through his body and flooded him as his lower stomach went tight, climaxing. The second he did, the players suddenly vanished, leaving him alone in the room still tied up, before the dream shattered and he woke up._

When he woke, he found himself rock hard, cock dripping slightly with precum, against Messi’s thigh. He gasped and pulled himself away, checking to make sure his friend was still asleep, before glancing at the clock. 21:00. He sighed and got up off the bed, running his hand down his face, and leaving for the kitchen to make some dinner for the both of him as he tried to get his dream off of his mind. Dani? Why was he in his dreams, especially a sex one? He grumbled to himself while he pulled chicken out of the freezer and tossed it in the microwave to thaw. He leaned against the counter and put his head in his hands, looking down at his erection, trying to will it to disappear. The beep of the microwave startled himself out of his thoughts and he sighed, opening it up and pulling out the chicken. He set it on the counter and turned on the stove light as well as the stove itself, looking around for a skillet or pan. He found a pan in a cabinet under the counter and placed it on a burner, tossing the meat onto the pan and adding a bit oil to help it cook. It sizzled and hissed, spitting the burning oil back at him like an angry cat, causing him to back up and frown as he was splattered slightly on the arm. He rubbed at the red marks with his hand, trying to soothe them, while he grabbed a spatula. It dawned on him that he should wear an apron, yet he couldn’t bring himself to hunt one down as his mind was still swimming from the dream.

He flipped the chicken over so the other side could cook, tossing some spices onto it and pulled some plates out of the dishwasher, setting them on the counter. The floor beneath him was cold and the sudden realization made him gasp. He wished he had his slippers, but his stomach roared in protest, reminding him why he was downstairs. Neymar pulled the skillet off of the burner and cut into it to check if it was done and smiled when he noticed the inside was white. He put one piece of chicken on one plate and another on a separate one, the first going into the sink with a sigh of satisfaction. What he didn't notice was someone enter the kitchen with him until a pair of arms and around his waist and a chin was placed on his shoulders. He looked down to see the half-sleeve tattooed arm of his friend and he smiled, slightly wondering if he stood up properly, if Messi would dangle off of him. Their height difference wasn't much, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. 

Neymar turned around with a smile, though wiggled out of the man’s hug and placed the plates on the bar, pouring some wine into two glasses after pulling the bottle from the fridge. He set the cups in front of the plates, on the corner, and waited for Messi to sit down so he could join him. Leo walked around the counter and sat on the barstool, watching as Ney followed and sat next to him. His friend cleared his throat and stared at the food, before looking over at him with a half smile.

“It looks good, Ney, but there is a problem.” Leo laughed, eyeing the other’s plate as well.

Neymar almost paled, worried that he fucked up the food, “What?” He whispered, shaking his leg nervously.

“Well we might have to eat this with our hands because we don't have silverware,” He poked fun at him, getting a strained laugh in return.

Neymar immediately got off the stool in embarrassment and went to one of his drawers, pulled out two forks and two knives, immediately walking back and setting them on the counter. Messi placed his hand over his and rubbed his thumb against it reassuringly, telling him to relax and that it wasn't a big deal. To the Brazilian it was, though, because he wanted to do everything he can to make one of his idols proud, even if that meant being embarrassed over some forks and knives. He let out a shaky breath and sat back up on the stool, cutting into the food and eating a few bites. He calmed himself down and watched through his peripheral vision as Lionel ate as well. He felt satisfied, like he actually cooked a decent enough meal, because his team mates would always harass him and tell him how his food sucked. It was one of his insecurities. They ate in silence, leaving the dishes there, both glasses of wine drank, then moved to the couch. Neymar was ever so slightly inebriated, giggling over small things, while he tried to find the remote to turn on the television so they could watch a movie together.

“Remember, remember when I scored that goal and jumped in your arms? That was so fun.” He laughed, upturning a couch cushion to look underneath it.

“That happens every time one of us goals while playing with Barçelona. You can't be drunk, you only had one glass,” Messi replied, smiling and watching him as he put the cushion back.

“But this was different, that time.” He got serious and looked away. “It was when I first knew I liked you,” He got quiet and walked over to the chair to look under that cushion. 

Messi didn't reply, but sat down on a cushion that was already moved on the couch, so Neymar could continue his search for the remote that was next to him on a side table. He decided not to tell him because it was enjoyable to watch him walk around completely naked. Neymar was flaccid, but it was still attractive. Ney groaned in frustration, looking around the room, then spotting it on the table by Leo’s arm. He sent him a playful glare, grabbed the remote, and turned the TV on. He flipped it to a movie that was playing, Annie, the 2014 version, and practically jumped onto the couch. He hummed while turning up the volume and crossing his legs underneath him. 

“You're naked,” Leo murmured from next to him and when he looked down, he noticed he forgot to put on boxers. 

What was equivalent to four exclamation points went off in his head and he apologized before scampering off to his bedroom and coming back with black briefs on. Messi chuckled and patted the seat, motioning him to come sit back down. He shuffled over and plopped down, leaning back and stretching his legs out. He stared at the muscles in his own thighs, flexing them, fascinated with how they moved under his skin. He looked up at the television when a song came on, sang along with it quietly, then went back to staring at his legs. He turned one so he could examine the tattoo on the back of his calf, but he only saw the side of it.

Neymar bit the corner of his lip before talking, holding it in his mouth for a moment, “I'm not drunk, I was just nervous,” 

He felt Messi watching him, but he couldn't bring himself to look over at him because his face was burning. He wished he hadn't said what he did about when he first realized he was attracted to Messi; he was worried he was rushing things. Neymar turned his head to see what he was doing and was met with Leo raising his eyebrow at him. Just one. Neymar always wished he could do that, but he had no control of his forehead muscles aside from raising both at the same time. While he was thinking about it, he was moving them unconsciously and the only way he realized it was because Leo was smiling at him. He made a few faces and leaned his head against the back of the couch, staring at him, while the movie played in the background. 

“Neymar Jr., I really enjoy your company,” Messi murmured, reaching over to run his fingers through his friend’s hair.

Ney leaned up into the touch with a soft smile, closing his eyes and sighing, “Lionel Messi, I really enjoy your company, too.”

He shifted over so he could lean against him, resting his head against his shoulder while he changed his attention to the movie. It was nice to watch something innocent like this when he was still stressed out about Ronaldo and the video of him being wasted. He pressed himself against the other player who draped an arm around his shoulders. He never thought Leo would be one for cuddling, but it was nice to spend time like this. They finished the movie in relative silence, save for Messi asking a question or two, but Neymar fell asleep before it ended. He was still exhausted from what had happened earlier in the day and Leo was warm and comfortable. His head slipped to his friend’s lap and he curled up into a ball against him, tucking one arm underneath the other’s thigh to hold onto.

Leo ran his fingers through his hair slowly, watching him as he slept, letting him rest for a while. He changed the channel to something else, landing on the local news station, which Neymar was featured on. He quickly turned the volume done to a dull roar, not wanting to wake him up, and watched the segment unravel. They talked about his anger issues, how he needs help, calling him an embarrassment, than an alcoholic and replaying the video from the restaurant. Messi clenched his fist in anger, wondering how Ney was going to react to this all; he knew it wouldn't be pretty. He also knew that Neymar wasn't an embarrassment and a lot of people loved him, he just needed some guidance, but that's why he was there. He had Messi, Dani, Suárez, Arda, Iniesta, and the rest of the team to help show him the ropes. Not to mention, he had an entire other team, the Brazilian National Team, to help as well. No one was going to let him fall.

It was about two am when he decided to wake Neymar up to help him to his bed and then leave. He didn't feel like he sleep there again so soon as to not make things awkward. It was amusing trying to get the taller man up off of his lap, hush him while he complained about drooling on his thigh, and lead him up to the bedroom. He got the tired man into his bed and covered him up with a comforter, watching with a smile as he grabbed a second pillow to hold. It seemed like a comfort thing, but he had never seen anyone do that before. He sighed and walked out of the room, shutting it quietly, and made his way out of the house. Once he got into his car, he backed out of the driveway and took off toward his own home - it was late and he was fairly tired.

At eleven am Neymar woke up with a vocal yawn, stretching his arms out and knocking the pillow he was holding previously to the floor. He scratched at his arm lazily and got himself off the bed, trying to recall the previous night. He shrugged his shoulders and shuffled into the bathroom, dragging a slow hand through his hair while smacking his lips slightly and swallowing. He flipped on the light and narrowed his eyes against the brightness, trying to see himself in the mirror as his eyes adjusted. His hair was disheveled and he opened his mouth and ran his tongue across his front teeth. Grabbing the toothbrush on the counter, he wet it under the water, before pressing a small line of toothpaste on the bristles. He brushed his teeth in silence, attempting to hold back another yawn, then spat out the foam. He rinsed his mouth out and brushed his hair with a comb, styling it, then left. 

Memories of the previous night came back to him and all he could focus on was the blow job and the Dream about sex with his friends. He sighed as his erection made itself known, but elected to ignore it while he made breakfast. He tossed some cereal in a bowl, nearly adding orange juice before he realized his mistake, and sat down at the bar. His phone was there and he figured Messi put it there before he left; he grabbed it, pressed his thumb against the home button to unlock it, and went to check the new message that was there. He figured his fingerprint was more secure than a passcode, even though he still had that turned on. The message was from Leo, wishing him a good morning, hoped he slept well, and told him he was going to some exclusive type interview. He hoped Neymar could make it.

He immediately finished his cereal and placed the bowl in the sink, replied that he would be there, then raced upstairs to toss on some clothes. He tugged on some basketball shorts, a plain cotton black t-shirt, and slipped on some shoes be found in his closet. He took a moment to stare at everything he had in there and he raised an eyebrow as he realized there were a lot of shoes in there. He made a _‘hm’_ noise and left the door open while hurrying to get to the front door. He grabbed his keys and locked up, running to his car while Messi texted him that he was at Camp Nou. A half smile flashed across his face while getting inside of the vehicle, happy to be going back to the stadium to see Messi. 

There was a huge difference between going to Camp Nou to train, play, or do group interviews, and watching the man he was interested in talk about himself. When he arrived at the stadium, he made his way into the conference room where they normally had interviews with the media. Luis Enrique was standing on one side of Leo and a few reporters were sitting in the chairs. He tried to make his entrance as quiet as possible, to where only Luis noticed him and gave a slight nod of acknowledgement. He was being asked the routine question of who his closest friends were and he carefully answered by putting Suaréz first, then Neymar, so that no one would get curious. He did glance quickly in his direction, but Neymar hoped that whoever was watching it just thought he was momentarily distracted by something. The reporter didn't notice and Neymar sighed a quiet breath of relief. 

Messi talked about fútbol, his growth hormone deficiency, life in Argentina, and more run of the mill questions. Nothing too spectacular was asked and when he was questioned about love interests, Neymar’s face grew hot. Messi played it off like he wasn't currently focused on finding a partner right now and would rather focus all his attention on playing for FC Barçelona and the Argentina National Team. Neymar felt like he was going to have a heart attack, though extremely exaggerated, and had to remind himself to breathe. He knew Leo would not mention their sexual encounter or the fact that they were into each other, but the panic still sent his heart racing.

The reporters wrapped up their questions and took multiple photos, the camera lights flashing around the room, while Leo just smiled. Luis stood behind him for some of the photos, a couple with his hands on his shoulders, showing his obvious pride for his top player. Once they were finished, Neymar ducked out of the room and stood next to the door, awaiting his friend. He played with the hem of his shirt nervously as he tried to act casual, but it didn't work out well in his favour. Leo came out about two minutes later with a grin on his face, happy to see the Brazilian up against the wall. Neymar pushed himself up off of it and hugged the shorter man, burying his face in his neck and inhaling the scent of whatever cologne he was wearing. Messi hugged back and the two broke apart, beginning to walk out of the stadium.

“If we date, do you think we'd ever go public?” Neymar asked curiously as they exited and walked toward their cars. 

Messi looked at him thoughtfully before replying, “I don't know, Ney. That's a hard question to answer. I don't know how the world would respond to that and I wouldn't want it to jeopardize either of our careers.”

Neymar nodded and walked with Leo to his vehicle, standing next to the back door as the other man went by the driver side door. Neymar quickly grabbed Messi’s hand and played with his fingers momentarily before dropping them, then leaned his weight against the car. He stared at his friend for a while, examining his facial features, noticing creases here and there, the way his nose was set on his face, his lips, and his beautiful breathtaking eyes. The sun was shining just right on Messi, causing his brown hair to turn a lighter shade, illuminating his outline, to which Neymar whispered, “Deus”. 

“I am no god, Ney,” Leo replied to him softly, but Neymar wasn't convinced.

“You are in my world. So what next? Want to get some lunch somewhere?” Neymar told him, sure of his words.

“Sure, I'll follow you. You choose,” 

Neymar nodded and got one last hug from Messi, then left to his own car with a smile on his face. He had never been so happy in his life than he had these last few days. It was almost like he was living in a fairy tale and he didn't want the euphoria to end. Leo liked him, they admitted they liked each other, they got each other off, watched a movie together, and now lunch. His heart was racing again and he was almost positive it was loud enough the entire city could hear it, but the only thing that was noticeable was the feeling in his chest and the pounding of the blood going through his jugulars.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in college!! Yay!! I am so excited and tomorrow starts my second day of the second week. I take Spanish and English Monday and Wednesday while I do Math Tuesday and Thursday. This won't get in the way of this story, I promise you. The end is a bit rushed because I wanted to post it tonight and I have chapter eight ready. Enjoy!!

Neymar locked the door to his car and waited for Messi to follow. Once he caught up, they walked through some streets to get to El Atril, a casual Catalonian restaurant that was a twenty minute drive from the stadium. He hadn't been here before, but he heard good things, so he figured why not try it out. A short minute later, the two walked inside the building, he paused for a second to take in the environment. He was greeted by a bar with several bottles of liquor, upside down wine glasses, and a nice looking draft beer machine. He smiled somewhat while Leo took the initiative to get them a table. The reddish coloured wooden chairs looked relaxing and he sat down in one of them; Leo across. 

Before they talked, Neymar ordered himself a Pierna de Pavo BBQ! He wasn't quite sure why there was an exclamation point at the end of the food name, but it sounded delicious. Leo ordered a Solomillo de Cerdo with a hummus tapa, obviously intending to drink something. Neymar wanted to join him, but he was still paranoid from being filmed while drunk the other time he went out. He sighed and got himself a water with a lemon, to which Leo shot him a quizzical look. He held up his hands in defense with a shrug, taking this chance to continue examining the restaurant. The walls were made out of brick, the table matched the chairs even though they were a subtle brown colour, and music was playing from speakers mounted on the walls. He didn't recognize what song was playing, though it had a nice beat to it, something he could dance to if given the chance.

Messi interrupted his thoughts to strike up a conversation, “Are you not drinking because of that incident?”

Neymar nodded, not wanting to speak about it and hoped he would let it go.

The Argentinian sighed and gave him a pointed look, “It's not as bad as it looked, it's not like you assaulted anyone. It was just embarrassing,”

“Messi, I don't want to talk about it,” He snapped, feeling flustered by the conversation.

Leo cleared his throat, but dropped it anyway, even though he probably had more to say on the matter. Before they could start something new, Leo’s tapa came, so he ordered a Modelo. Within two minutes tops, the alcohol was served, prompting the man to take a few sips and a bite of his food. Neymar watched him with interest, trying to think of what to say to break the awkward silence that settled around them. The room suddenly felt stuffy, as if he couldn't breathe, but he did his best to not allow panic to consume him. Not the right place, not the right time. He swallowed and pulled out his phone to check something meaningless, going to his notes to see if there was anything there; just thoughts and comments about training and the teams. He frowned, though decided to say something when Messi stayed quiet as well.

“What are you going to do after this?” He inquired, shaking his leg under the table.

Leo looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before responding, “Probably hang out with Suárez.”

“May I join?” He needed something to do to get his mind off of things and he hadn't seen Luis in a while.

“Sure,” He said between bites, sipping at the Modelo again.

Neymar found it curious how they referred to Luis sometimes as Suárez to differentiate between him and the coach. He was excited for this, yet when he was about to voice this excitement, their food was served. He gave his thanks to the server and a silent one to God thanking Him for sustenance. They chatted a bit about their family, Lionel’s worries for Copa America Centenario, and a few other things while they ate. It was a nice lunch, some good time away from the hustle and bustle of life, and Ney was able to relax his body as well as his mind momentarily. When offered a drink of Leo’s beer, he frowned, looked around hastily, but accepted and quickly took a swig. He let the alcohol stay in his mouth for a bit, contemplating the flavour, then swallowed with a soft ‘ah’ sound. It was refreshing to say the least.

After their food was done, Leo went over to the front to pay with cash because he didn't want them being difficult over card. Neymar stood up slowly and stretched, placing his phone back in his pocket, and lazily followed Messi out the door. They walked side by side to their respective cars and agreed that Neymar would drop his car off at his own house, than they would take Messi’s to meet up with Luis. Neymar got in his car and backed out of the parked area, taking the highway back the same way they came, but the opposite side. Leo sped around some cars to make sure he was always behind him, noticeably frustrated through Neymar’s rear view mirror when he was cut off and had to overpass the car. Neymar smiled, but didn't allow that to be seen, finding it adorable when his friend was frustrated. For the rest of the ride back, Messi was almost up against his bumper, even when Neymar accelerated to be an ass. 

He left the highway, flinching as someone blared their horn at them, turning onto a side road. He took a minute to breathe as he drove slower, his friend still behind him, and rubbed his hand over his face. He wasn't sure why that worked him up so much, but it did. Neymar left the side street and drove for a little while longer on main roads before pulling up to his house. He parked in front and locked it up, walking over to Messi’s vehicle. He opened the passenger door and slipped inside, buckling himself up, and shutting the door. Leo offered a short smile before driving around back to the road.

“What happened?” The other inquired as he drove to their destination. 

“What do you mean?” Neymar asked, looking down at his hands.

Messi looked at him out of the corner of his eye, “On that side road.”

“Oh, nothing, just got startled is all,”

Messi narrowed his eyes slightly, but let it go because he was more focused on driving. Neymar was shaking his leg subconsciously, trying to think of something else to talk about. He really wanted to know where they were going, but he didn’t want to be bothersome and inquire. He reached over and turned on the radio, skipping through some stations before landing on a hip hop channel. He left it there and looked out the windshield, watching the cars in front of them. He was fascinated with a Mazda GT directly ahead, but his focus was interrupted by Billie Jean by Michael Jackson coming on the radio.

A smile spread across his face and he looked over at Leo before beginning to sing along with the lyrics. He was enjoying the moment even though he turned away from looking at the other man, dancing somewhat in his seat. It wasn't his favourite Michael Jackson song, no, but there was no way one could not rock out to his music. The one he liked the most, admittedly, was Smooth Criminal because it was a beat he could jam with. As the song came to an end, he realized he had just sang in front of Messi, something he didn't do often, and so he immediately quieted down and blushed. 

“Sorry, I know I can't sing. It was terrible, huh?” Neymar laughed awkwardly and didn't look over, worried that he annoyed Lionel.

“No, it's okay, I enjoyed it,” Messi replied, offering a small smile, which Neymar didn't catch because he still wouldn't look.

He mouthed an “oh” and turned his gaze to Messi hopefully, grinning to show that he was glad with the response that was given. Leo chuckled and rounded a corner, taking the freeway again. It was another quiet ride because Leo was naturally quiet and Neymar didn’t want to be annoying. Bruno Mars’ “Just the Way You Are” came on the radio next and he nearly burst out laughing at the awkwardness. This wasn’t a song he would listen to normally, so he didn’t feel inclined to join Bruno in vocals. A few more songs played as they cruised down the freeway and exited, getting closer to their destination with Luis. He figured they were in the vehicle for at least thirty minutes, so he wondered why his friends chose such a distant place to meet up. He wasn’t too familiar with this part of town, but it didn’t give him a bad vibe, so he assumed it must be okay. He trusted Messi to not take him anywhere he could be harmed.

Lionel seemed to be taking the long way around as they arrived at the Arco de Triunfo de Barcelona. A huge grin grew on his face as this was one of his favourite places to go to when he had the time. They had one of the best coffee shops within walking distance and he was excited to get some and walk around the monument with the other forwards. He bounced in his seat while Leo found parking, attempting to crane his neck to view the Arco de Triunfo through the closed window. It didn’t exactly go as planned, but he was able to see enough of it to keep him energized. The moment Leo parked, before he could cut the engine, Neymar was out of the car and staring up at the brick with his mouth open. He didn’t care if he had seen it a thousand times before, it was still as interesting as the last time he went, which was a few months ago. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone approaching him, so he backed up against the car in case it was a fan or media trying to swarm him. Once he noticed it was Luis, he relaxed and ran to meet his friend, laughing and holding his arms out for a hug. They collided with each other, Neymar nearly knocking him over, and they gave a welcoming kiss to the other’s cheek.

“Luis! I’ve missed you!” He squealed, letting go of his friend and rocking back and forth where he stood.

“I missed you, too, Ney,” The Uruguayan replied, clapping him on the back while he went around him to greet Messi who was left behind.

They got to talking and walked to the coffee shop Neymar was raving about internally in the car, where Neymar ordered two Café Solos with extra espresso, Luis a Café Americano, and Messi a Café con Leche. He was already hyper and Messi advised against it, but Suárez poked fun at Leo for acting like a parent. It was nice to have a sense of normalcy and goof off with friends, especially due to the circumstances that played out within the past few weeks. He could not wait to get back to playing fútbol with Leo and have Luis by his side. Enrique hadn’t allowed them to play together in a while to allow other players a chance at stardom while Messi was recovering from his injury. The three players walked around a bit, looking the Arco up and down, Ney more in awe than anyone else. 

Suddenly, he paused in front of it and looked back to make sure it was centred behind him while motioning Luis and Lionel over. He pulled out his phone and opened Snapchat, beginning to record once they joined. He talked about how he was at the Arco de Triunfo with Leo and Luis, speaking in Portuguese. The recording only lasted a few moments and when it stopped, he reviewed it, added some heart eye emoticons, and sent it to his contacts and story. He smiled and pulled them in for a side hug before walking again, going in circles around his favourite monument. They stayed there for a couple more hours before going their separate ways, though Neymar was still riding with Lionel. He was hyper the entire way to Leo’s home, shaking his leg and talking what seemed to be ninety miles an hour. 

When his friend pulled up to his house, they both got out and walked to the front door, entering, and Neymar bolted to the couch. 

“C’mon Leo, let’s play a videogame, or we could go for a run. How about swimming? I miss swimming, it’s so fun. There’s the sea, did you know Spain was by a sea? I did, but that’s super cool anyway, so how about that game?” He rattled off a list of things they could do together.

He kept speaking until Messi told him to hush, laughing at the energy he was giving off. He sat down next to him and pulled him down into his lap. 

“How about we drink instead? I have some wine that needs tapped into,” Leo suggested, tightening his grip when the younger Santos tried to take off again. 

“Sure, what kind?” He attempted to keep his voice level, but it wasn’t working to his liking. 

“I have Fine Garnacha we can get into if you would like,”

Neymar wiggled out of his grasp and skipped to the kitchen, coming to a hard stop and waiting for Lionel to join him. He watched as the older man went over to his cabinet and brought out the bottle, searching for a corkscrew and finding one in a drawer. He unscrewed it with a satisfying ‘pop’ sound and got out two glasses for the both of them. He set them on the counter, allowed the bottle to breathe for a little bit, and poured the drink into the individual wine glasses. Neymar was impatiently waiting to be handed a glass and when he was, he immediately took a few sips, tongue dancing along the rim as he eyed Leo. He nearly cried at the wonderful dark raspberry flavour, yet he didn’t savour it like he was supposed to and finished the glass in two sittings. Messi raised his eyebrow at him while he took his time, though he did pour Neymar another glass. This time around, he slowed down and allowed himself to enjoy the drink, feeling slightly tipsy as he leaned himself against the counter. 

Four glasses later, each, they had three fourths of the wine bottle gone and they were dancing together to whatever Neymar was humming, which happened to be a mixture of multiple songs. Drunk and trying to maintain their balance, they both nearly fell quite a few times, before stumbling over to the couch again. A hiccup and a few sloppy kisses later, they passed out, Leo resting his head on Neymar’s chest. They slept without dreaming for a few hours, having drank too much for their own good and somehow both staying on the small couch without rolling off. Neymar said a few incoherent things in his sleep while Leo tried kissing him again, but missed and kissed the arm rest instead. Neither of them noticed because they were far too passed out to care or realize. 

Eventually Lionel woke up first, rubbing drool off the corner of his mouth, and sat up, rubbing at his eyes. While he tried to gather his surroundings, Neymar let out the loudest of whines and woke himself up, kicking at Leo, before sitting up as well. He pouted, not wanting to be awake, especially since the alcohol practically wore off of the both of them. He adjusted himself on the couch and stared at his friend, enjoying what he saw, and scooted closer to him. They were a few inches apart and he swore he could feel the other’s warm breath against his skin. He swallowed hard, trying to ignore the hard on creeping up between his legs, and thought about cats instead. He tilted his head slightly when he felt it go down and smiled slightly, reaching over to brush his thumb across the cheek of his crush. Messi closed his eyes at the touch, opening them after a second, and smiled back.

“Leo, can I ask you something?” He questioned, looking at his lips instead of his eyes.

“Sure, if you make eye contact with me,” Leo teased, causing Neymar to blush and look up at him. 

“Can we like, date? I mean, can you be my boyfriend?” He felt like a teenager asking out someone much older than him, yet he asked while maintaining eye contact.

There was a long pause and it seemed like Messi was contemplating his answer for a while, “Yes, Neymar.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heck yeah an update. I know I was taking forever and I thank those who were patient with me. Between college & battling my mental health, writing got shoved to the back burner. I am in college again, but I hope to continue to write this. I don't know how long it is because I wrote it on my boyfriend's phone. If there is any Portuguese or Spanish, I'll catch it tomorrow and add in translations. Enjoy!!!
> 
> Rest in peace to those lost of Chapecoense.

Locker rooms were weird and he had just noticed it, how a group of men were crammed into a room to change, to shower, and _oh god_ the chance for Athlete’s Foot. Neymar shivered as he picked up his jersey, staring at the number eleven on the back, suddenly glad his number fell right after Messi’s ten. He pulled it on over his head, enjoying the feeling of the material, treating life as if he had never lived before. A few of the other players patted him on the back, almost as if they knew Leo and him started dating a couple days ago, but he remembered it was simply a friendly gesture that they did all the time. He grinned, turning around on heel, and looked at Rafinha who was standing behind him. The younger man had a smirk on his face almost as if he knew, and Neymar had a momentary bought of panic. _Did he know?_ It didn’t make sense after he thought about it for a while, because he hadn’t hung out with him in a few weeks outside of the stadium. He was somewhat suspicious, though, because that look sent shivers down his spine.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” Rafinha inquired, teeth showing from behind his lips in his smile. 

“What? No one,” He replied, almost stumbling over his words. 

“Come on, Ney. Everyone totally knows you scored last night or something,” Rafinha teased, nudging him in the side with his elbow. 

Neymar blushed and laughed, kicking his heel against the ground and rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t admit he was with anyone, dating anyone, anything. He couldn’t compromise Messi’s and his relationship like that, or their career, especially right before a game. They were playing Getafe for La Liga and he was beyond sure that they would win. He needed to focus and get his head in the right space, but the teasing would not stop. Someone darted past them and poked him in the side, though he wasn’t able to turn around to catch them in time. He scowled in their direction and rubbed the point where he was so graciously assaulted by a finger. 

“Nothing happened, Rafi, let it go,” He mumbled, raising his eyebrow at the younger man, hoping he would get the point. 

Rafinha shrugged and followed Mascherano back to where the showers were. Neymar breathed a sigh of relief and sat down where his jersey lay previously to slip his cleats on over his socks. He glanced over when someone sat next to him and noticed it was Dani. He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing his older friend wouldn't tease him about his apparent obvious infatuation with someone. Dani wrapped his arm around his shoulders and pulled him close; Neymar welcomed the gesture, enjoying the warmth and strength from the other Brazilian. He loved the comforting feeling Dani possessed when he was around Neymar and it made him think of home every time they got to do this. 

“Good luck out there today on the field. Enrique is sidelining me as back up, but I'll be cheering you on,” His friend murmured, rubbing his arm gently. 

“I know he did, thank you Dani. It's gonna be a good game!” Neymar replied enthusiastically, grinning up at the older man. 

“You're young, but soon you will be the next superstar. I applaud your excitement,” 

Dani messed up his hair before getting up and leaving, causing Neymar to wonder what he was going to do. He shrugged off the thought and stood up, looking around for a group of players. He spotted approximately six standing around a bench, so he walked over to join them, smiling all the way. He had a spring in his step that he hadn't had for a while and it was nice; who knew going forward into a relationship with Messi would change him completely? If anyone had Latin charm, it would be Lionel Andrés Messi. 

Approaching the men, he threw himself into the middle, grabbing onto the closest person, before singing lyrics to a song he made up, “Olé, it’s Barça players! Olé, we always win! Olé, no one can beat us! Olé, we are the best! Olé, olé, olé! Força Barça!” 

Everyone burst out laughing from the song, some saying “olé” in response. He fed off of their happiness, allowing it to drive his own emotions, and left to get ready to go out onto the field and train for a bit before the actual game started. He was nervous and pumped up, wishing he had a Red Bull to drink before he went out, but there were none in sight. He should have had some readily available since they were sponsoring him, but he didn't know where to find any since the mini fridge in the locker rooms that housed his precious energy drink was empty. He huffed in dissatisfaction and rounded a corner, almost running right into Messi. 

He barely contained a squeal of delight at seeing his boyfriend, who turned around and raised his eyebrow at the sound. “Look, Ney, I saved you a Red Bull. Rafinha grabbed like six,” 

The striker handed his lover the drink and Neymar couldn't have smiled any bigger even if he tried. “Oh god, thank you. You're a lifesaver. You rock, Deus,” 

Leo blushed at the nickname Neymar continuously called him, and Ney quickly kissed him on the cheek. He hummed and smirked, opening the Red Bull and taking a couple swigs from it, wrapping an arm around the back of his partner’s neck. He continued to drink while they stood together in silence, Messi on his phone, going through some photos of his. Neymar looked every so often, seeing pictures of the team, random scenery, some drunk photos, and pictures out of the team’s private jet. He knew Leo loved taking pictures, they were an easier way to express himself than using words all the time and communicating with people. The athlete was introverted, which was odd with a life of playing fútbol, but he knew when to talk when needed. The rest of the team shrugged it off as just how he was, which was true, he was a soft-spoken man with little to say unless you get close to him and really get him going on a subject. 

Time went by rather quickly and before he had a chance to blink, they were heading out onto the turf to begin training. The opposite team was already out there, having gone out about eight minutes before, and he swore, if it wasn’t the most hilarious sight, to watch Suárez jog out while stretching next to Messi. The height difference was almost comedic and he held back a giggle while doing lunges onto the field with Pique next to him. The team ran around, stretching out their muscles and practicing moves, kicking the ball to each other, before a couple took off to assist Ter Stegen and Bravo with preventing goals from happening. He tripped over someone’s leg and fell, catching himself on his hands and knees, grinning, as he looked around to see who was around. No one was, indicating the person bolted soon after. He pushed himself up off of the turf and brushed his hands together right as Leo jogged up him to see if he was okay. 

“You alright?” Leo asked, wrapping an arm around his sides. 

Neymar covered his mouth with his hand to avoid allowing anyone else to see their conversation, “I so want to fuck you right now, you are so sexy when you're sweaty,” 

He watched with a smirk as Messi went rigid for a moment, a slight blush crossing his cheeks, before he responded, “Yeah, you're fine,” 

Neymar laughed and walked with them back to the locker rooms to take off his training bib off and get ready for the actual game. He had taken a moment to watch the other team maneuver around the field, looking for inconsistencies in their training. When he stopped walking, Messi had placed a hand on his back and forced him to keep going, and he brought himself out of his thoughts. They entered the tunnel which would take them back to the locker rooms and he leaned into Messi, savouring the intimacy with his boyfriend. Boyfriend, yeah, they were dating, and he couldn’t believe it. Was he in a fantasy? Did any of this even happen? Who was he, where was he, why? Nothing made sense, he was twenty-three, Leo was twenty-eight, and he should probably stop thinking about it and focus on the game. 

He took the training bib off and stretched his limbs, arching backward to pop his back. Before he knew it, they were back in the tunnel filing out to start the game. It was so automatic, something they had done hundreds of times. He had a bounce in his step as he followed behind Dani, pressing close to him to peer over his shoulder at the stadium filled with fans. Dani made some joke about personal space, but Neymar tuned him out, more focused on how he was going to get through this game with Leo on his mind. Everyone clamored onto the field and took up their positions, awaiting ball. The referee flipped the coin and Getafe got the ball, trying their best to maintain possession, though they did not have a player as good as Messi. Once he had the ball, it seemed like professional ‘keep away’ until Leo was able to run it toward the goal. 

The end of the game came quicker than he anticipated, players gunned it to Messi for getting the last goal and making it three to one, and as much as Neymar wanted to sulk for missing his goal, he instead followed along with the others. He threw himself into the pile and wiggled himself close to his partner, grinned, and was elbowed out of the way by Suárez. He grimaced, pouted, righted himself, and turned instead to smile at the cameras. Sweat was dripping down his neck; the only thing he wanted at this time was to take a shower. Fans were still cheering on the final goal, but all that could play in his head was himself screaming, “Filho de puta!” while the crowd yelled, “A la luna!” He sighed and decided to go over to watch Dani give a quick interview. He giggled like a child and jumped behind him, making bunny ears, before Dani snapped at him to go away. 

He curled his lip in protest, but did as he was told and left, holding his head high even though he felt hurt because he did not want them to catch his reaction on camera. He left the pitch without the rest of the team and moved through the tunnels, smiling for cameras, waving to the photographers, then squeezed between people blocking the entrance to the locker room. He rubbed at his arm and sat down on the bench, glided his hand through his hair, afterward kicking off his cleats. Neymar couldn’t understand why Dani snapped at him, they had won the game; was he angry at him for missing the goal? Dani wouldn’t get mad about that, it’s not like he had been the only one to ever miss a goal in the history of the sport, so it must have been something else. He was probably overthinking it and the chill of the air reminded him he wanted to take a shower. 

He pulled his jersey off roughly in a huff and left it on the bench, too lazy to put it away. He slid his socks off and stuffed them in his cleats, tugged down the kit shorts and looked around the room. Artificial light was blinding, especially coming straight from being in the sun for an hour and a half or so. He scratched his arm before taking a moment to trace his fingertips over his tattoos. His thumb slipped into a space on his wrist where blank skin stood out and he frowned, wondering what he would fill it with. His head shot up when he heard people starting to come into the room so he scampered toward the showers, barely sliding in before the locker room was full of the team. Neymar got out of his underwear and wedged it in a corner, arms too sore to reach and put it elsewhere. 

Out on the pitch, someone had rammed into him, causing his shoulder to nearly dislocate. Medics had to rush out to him, but he was okay after a few minutes. A player only needed his legs to play soccer; sometimes his chest and head, too. Alas, those were not injured, and the pain was less intense after his adrenaline began pumping again. It was only a short moment after when he missed his goal and sent the ball flying, though he could probably contribute that to his shoulder. The player who ran into him was yellow carded for foul play, earning the game a little extra time after the ninety minute mark. Grass marks lined his jersey from where he fell, and even though he was one for dramatics, that time was real. Granted, it wasn't as bad as other injuries or when he hurt his back, but pain was still pain nonetheless. 

Neymar turned on the water, making it a bit more than lukewarm, and scooted himself under the stream. He sighed contentedly, attempting to rotate his shoulder under the water to get it to relax. His lip curled upward from the pain, so he allowed himself to stop and enjoy the shower. He heard the voices from his teammates talking outside, though some were taking their own showers. Dani still sounded unhappy, furthering the other Brazilian’s concern. He couldn't make out the words so he didn't know what was going on, but he had to force himself to stop assuming it was about him. A hearty laugh from a few people made Neymar smile; at least they were enjoying themselves, whatever the discussion may be. He worked shampoo into his hair, hoping to get the grime out from the exhaustion of the game. 

After his shower, he dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist, stepping out to see who was still around. He noticed his clothing was no longer there, causing him to frown, hoping no one decided to pull a joke on him. The ground beneath his feet was cold and he vaguely wondered why he didn't grab his slippers beforehand. Only a select few people were left, Lionel, Mascherano, Claudio, Marc-André, and Jordi. He was ready to head home and curl up in his nice king-sized bed, so he decided he would avoid watching Luis Enrique talk to the press. He yawned and leaned himself against a locker, closing his eyes and enjoying the cool feeling of the metal against his hot skin. He wasn't too worried about his kit because he could get a new one rather quickly, but he did want his clothes to put on so he wasn't standing around in a towel. 

“Ney,” A voice sounded from next to him, sounding quite suave to his tired ears. 

“Hm,” He grunted a response, not willing to open his eyes to see who was near him, though he already knew. 

An arm wrapped around his shoulder and pulled him close; the voice whispering in his ear, “Neymar, you're only wearing a towel, you should get dressed.” 

“Don't wanna, just wanna sleep,” He pouted, turning his face to press into the muscular chest of his boyfriend. 

Messi laughed and held him closely, the height difference making it a little awkward, “Come on, sleepyhead. You can't sleep in the locker room.” 

Neymar attempted to whine, looking up at the Argentinian with half closed eyes, “Watch me,” 

He reluctantly allowed Messi to guide him to his locker and grumbled while he had assistance with getting dressed. The match took a toll on him and he was lucky he wasn't required to go to physical therapy. He was, told however, to skip the next game and see how he felt for the one after. That news didn't make him happy, but you can't argue with a doctor. He made a sound of protest when a shirt was tugged gently over his torso and clean underwear slipped around his waist. Neymar was forced to stand up in order to slip his grey skinny jeans on, but granted permission to sit again for his black ankle cut socks. Shoes were next, then tied, and he found himself standing up again. Leo had dressed him; he felt like a child, but was thankful for the help. The other people had left to see what Enrique was saying, so all there was to do was to get Neymar to a bed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I'm still around! I apologize again for not updating, I had to deal with getting through college and I lost a friend to cancer earlier this year. I'm still grieving, but it has been easier lately. I've been trying to push myself to write and eventually got this chapter out. I hope you like it, it's not as good as I hoped it would be. My birthday was a week ago - 22 years now!
> 
> It is first time, but keep in mind that it isn't going to go how they want it to.
> 
> Purely smut in this one.
> 
> Thank you to all my readers who have stuck with me so far and thank you to the new readers!!

Neymar grunted as he fell face first into his bed, his shoulder protesting from the pressure of falling. Lionel had helped him to the bedroom and got him into the bed, then sat next to him and ran his fingers through his hair. Neymar pushed his head up into his boyfriend’s hand, enjoying the feeling and letting out a deep sigh. He rolled over onto his back and smiled up at Leo, flashing his teeth for a moment or two. Leo chuckled and placed his hand on his cheek and Neymar closed his eyes, not wanting the gentle touches to stop. He grabbed his boyfriend with his good arm and pulled him on top of him, kissing him and biting at his lower lip. Leo made a sound, one he couldn't connect with other noises, though it wasn't one of surprise. 

“What was that?” He laughed breathily, raising his brow. 

“What was what?” Leo replied, turning his head slightly to the side. 

“The sound you just made,” 

Lionel just shrugged and resumed the kissing, which made Neymar reach up and grab his hair and hold him closer, if it was possible. He found himself accidentally grinding his hips upward and forced himself to stop, unsure if that was okay. Leo sat back at stared at him with curiosity, positioning himself to rest on Neymar’s hips. A blush heated up his face and he covered it with his hands, groaning and wondering if he screwed things up. A hand grabbed his cock through his jeans and he inhaled sharply, peeking at his boyfriend through his fingers. He bit the tip of his tongue and held it between his front teeth when Messi started rubbing gently, then swallowed and completely covered his face. He felt his pants being unbuttoned and unzipped, the hand slipping into them and rubbing over his boxer-briefs. He shuddered and sat up somewhat, pushing Leo back onto the mattress and taking off his own shirt. 

Leo mimicked his actions and Neymar had to use all of his self-control not to jump at him and score his fingers across his beautiful chest. He let out a shaky breath and leaned back down on his elbows, taking in the sight before him; though he had seen him shirtless numerous times in the past. Somehow, this was different. His muscles, nipples, navel, and little pubic hairs poking out from the top of his shorts because of how low they were sitting, made his cock twitch. Leo just watched Neymar scanning his body and when he was caught, Neymar turned red for a minute. He was suddenly nervous, unsure of himself, and worried about making mistakes. Sure, he had been with another guy before, but it was just one, and they didn’t actually _fuck_. He had been with women, too, and even though they did fuck, it wasn’t him being penetrated. If it were any other man, Neymar would have probably been fine, but this was Lionel fucking Messi we are talking about and he was over the moon. His heart picked up beats and he was afraid it was going to rip out from his chest and run a marathon. It was probably obvious he was panicking, because Leo had leaned down and kissed him firmly, running his fingers down his chest, and then he remembered he had to breathe. 

“Fuck,” He muttered when they pulled apart, avoiding eye contact because he was still so nervous.  
“Look at me,” The voice Lionel used was dripping with dominance, the command echoing through Neymar’s ears.

He felt his cock get harder after he heard it and he complied, meeting his eyes, because this was exciting. He had never been dominated in his life and he was rather certain he was the dominating type, but Leo took control of everything quickly every time. He took control of the bedroom just like he does during games, knowing exactly what to do. The eye contact made him feel exposed, vulnerable, as if he would never be able to hide anything from this person again. He hated looking people in the eyes - he dreaded it - unless he absolutely had to. He felt a hand slip up his leg and he inhaled sharply, bringing him out of his thoughts and back to what was going on. He laid back, grabbing a pillow to shove underneath his head so he could continue to watch his boyfriend. His tight jeans were being tugged down with a strength that startled him and within a moment, he was helping Lionel pull them off his feet. His boxers were a dark red colour, an off-maroon shade, but a spot was darkened where his cock rested due to precum and Messi leaning down to suck at his erection through the material. Neymar’s hands gripped the white cotton sheets below him and his head pushed back into the bed, hips thrusting upward slightly. He looked down at his boyfriend resting between his legs and begged with his eyes for them to be pulled down. 

Leo complied and when they were off as well, his cock laid against his abdomen and twitched a couple times, desperate to be touched. Leo smirked and took the head in his mouth, pulling a groan from Neymar’s mouth. The flicking and rolling of his tongue didn’t last long because Leo worked himself out of his own shorts and kicked them off the bed. Neymar’s breath came in short gasps as he stared at his partner’s muscular thighs, trying to look through his underwear to see his dick once again. Lionel chuckled at Neymar laying on the bed and Neymar felt the heat of embarrassment course through his body. Neither moved, the only sound coming from the air conditioning running somewhere in the house, and every so often a breath could be heard. He quickly calmed himself down, wondering why he was acting like a child, which made him the first one to speak.

“Leo,” Neymar said, dragging his eyes up from his legs to his face.

“Hm?” Was the reply.

“I want you to fuck me,” He swallowed hard, awaiting a response, but Lionel just pulled off his own boxers. 

“Get the lube and a condom,” Another command. 

Neymar pushed himself up off the bed automatically, stretching out his muscles, and left to go to the bathroom. The icy tile floor was a small shock to his system, but he managed to pull open a drawer and grab the lubricant and a condom he had stashed there. Trojan, he read the title, snorting at himself for being so cliché, and walked back with one that was pre-lubricated and labeled _Bareskin_. Messi was watching him return, sitting on the bed with his legs crossed. His own erection was against his abdomen, too, although it was slightly smaller than Neymar’s. He would assume six inches, though the girth was what was most interesting to him. He was wider than longer and he knew it would be both more painful to get in, but more pleasurable. He convinced himself that this information was true due to pornography he had watched in the past and from women telling him. The only type of sex he had partook in was vaginal; it just hadn’t come up with the people he slept with. This time, however, it was a whole other ball game and he felt his muscles tense at the thought of taking all of his boyfriend’s cock.

“Come here, Ney,” Leo’s voice was softer this time, but Neymar still followed directions.

He continued forward and crawled back up onto the bed, sitting in front of him and placing the items to the side. Neither of them had lost their erection, but Neymar admitted to himself that his had gone down a bit from walking in the bathroom. Leo wrapped his hand around the Brazilian’s cock and moved his hand up and down while the other moaned and fell forward, letting his forehead rest against Leo’s shoulder. He felt a gentle twisting motion and he swore it would have sent him over the edge if he was more aroused. The hand went away and Neymar righted himself, whining because it stopped. Lionel moved forward himself and kissed him, licking Neymar’s lips, which parted to allow them to kiss deeper. They paused every few seconds or so to breathe, pulling apart sooner than Neymar had wanted, making him whine again. 

“Hush,” 

Neymar bit at his lip, his habit coming back, but Leo allowed it to happen and didn’t stop him. At this point, he had almost forgotten about his injured shoulder, just a dull ache that told him he was hurt when he moved it wrong. Tiredness left his body long ago. Lionel instructed him to move closer, and he did, to the point where they only had a few inches between them. He was suddenly pushed down onto his back again and he almost made a sound of protest, but he instead watched Leo squeeze out a bit of lube and coat his finger with it. Neymar swallowed, knowing what was going to happen next, though he knew he would be okay because he had fingered himself before as he thought about the Argentinian player. He was certain he heard the word, “relax”, so he did the best he could while the finger that was lubed up pressed against his entrance and pushed in. He took a deep breath and willed himself to relax further, while Messi finger fucked him. It felt good, though it was an odd sensation because it was coming from someone else. A second finger found its way in and he bit his lip, closing his eyes because it hurt slightly, but the sting rapidly dissipated and replaced with pleasure. After a minute or so, Leo pulled his hand away and tore open the condom, sliding it on his cock and followed it with lube.

“Sit up,” Messi murmured and he did so, looking at the other with curiosity. “I want you to ride me,”

Neymar nodded and while his boyfriend moved back into a sitting position, he worked his way over his lap and moved himself over Lionel’s cock. He heard his heart beating rapidly in his ears while he slowly eased himself downward, the tip of the head pushing against his entrance, and kept going. A bit of the head got in before he stopped, allowing his body to adjust, while Leo rubbed his back and as, urging him to relax. When he felt ready, he continued to go further down, but it was hurting and he wanted to back out. Leo grabbed his cock and began rubbing again, paying special attention to the head, causing Neymar to groan and close his eyes. The feeling helped calm him down enough to sink down more, with his boyfriend pushing his hips up ever so slightly here and there. Eventually, he got his cock all the way inside, and the feeling alone made his mind fill with ecstasy. After waiting for a bit once more, he found himself able to move up and down a little bit. It was uncomfortable and still ached, but he was sure he could handle it. He lifted himself up and went back down, sitting on Messi’s thighs and leaning against him. Leo took over for a bit, fucking him slowly, while the younger man moaned in his ear. Messi, however, went a little too fast for comfort and pain erupted through his body, and his muscles seized.

“Oh god, stop, stop, pull out, fuck,” He whimpered, trying to rip himself off of Leo’s cock.

“Shit, slowly, go slowly,” Lionel told him and he managed to do so, legs shaking as he pulled himself off and fell sideways onto the mattress.

Messi was immediately next to him, pulling him close and rubbing the back of his head. “Are you okay?”

Neymar nodded and pushed himself up against the stronger man, burying his face into his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” He sniffled, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“No, hey, it’s okay. Neymar, your body just wasn’t ready. It’s okay, I shouldn’t have pushed you,” Leo continued rubbing his head, but slinked his hand down to rub his back instead.

He cried for a few moments before settling down, wrapping his arm tightly around Lionel’s torso, though he didn’t move his head away. The pain in his shoulder was back full force and he grimaced, wishing he didn’t injure himself on the field. They had training in a few days and he was worried he wouldn’t be able to make it. He fucked up his shoulder and now sex; why couldn’t he just suck it up and deal with the pain like a normal person? He wanted to go back to it, but he wasn’t sure if he could handle having Leo back inside him so quickly. Something in him hurt and he knew he didn’t tear because there was no blood, though he ached terribly. He sighed and moved his face so he could breath cooler air, keeping his forehead against Messi’s chest and his eyes closed. 

“I’m such a fucking freak, I’m a horrible person, I’m sorry,” He mumbled, glad his face was hidden so he wouldn’t see the disappointment in his lover’s face.

“Neymar da Silva Santos Jr, that’s enough,” Leo wasn’t angry or annoyed, but seemed more concerned than anything.

He sat himself up, moving to where he would be comfortable, and wiped his face with the back of his hand, “I think I want a shower,”

“Did you tear?” Leo pressed, but Neymar shook his head.

“No blood,” He answered, scooting off of the bed and standing up.

He left to the bathroom again, walking in an odd way, and left the door open while he turned on the faucet. Water exploded out of the metal and onto the tub and he allowed it to run for a few moments before turning on the shower itself. He stepped inside, letting out a frightened hiss at the cold water, but relaxed when it started to become warm. He allowed it to cascade down his back, running between the cheeks of his ass, seeming to soothe a bit of the pain that was there. He lost his hardness a while back, when the pain originally happened, and he felt like he had failed. He was twenty-four and couldn’t appropriately have sex like a normal person his age; the thought wrecked him. Tears appeared again, but he fought them back with a sob that forced its way out, and he hoped Messi didn’t hear. He reached over quickly for the shampoo and put some in his hair, rubbing it in, trying to act like nothing had happened. Alas, someone spoke from the other side of the shower, causing him to jump.

 

“Neymar,” 

“Mmm?” He replied, trying to focus himself on washing his body.

“What happened?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” Neymar answered hastily, scrubbing at his legs with his loofah.

There was a grunt, but his boyfriend didn’t push him, and he sighed when he heard footsteps retreating. He dunked his head back under the stream and rubbed the soap out, running his fingers through a couple tangles in his hair. Once finished, he turned off the shower and pushed the diverter pull arm back down to allow the water to pour back out the faucet. He stepped out onto the bathmat and grabbed for a black fluffy towel hanging on the rack next to him. He dried off his hair and body, wrapping the towel around his waist and left to go back into the bedroom. Leo was lying on the bed again, propped up against the headboard with one leg bent and the other extended. He was on his phone when Neymar entered and looked up, locking it and tossing it to the side. He had put his boxers back on, the younger man noticed, but his arms were outstretched for him to come over. He dragged his feet across the carpet as he walked, noting the burn from the fibers as he created friction. He didn’t care right now, getting back up onto the bed and scooting between Lionel’s legs. He laid on his stomach and rested the side of his head against Messi’s, letting out a resigned sigh and stared at the wall across the room. Neither of them said anything and allowed the silence to consume the room, but it was comfortable, and Neymar was glad for it. He wouldn’t be able to deal with an awkward silence at that moment. 

“Want to get into your underwear, babe?” 

Neymar nodded and blushed at the name, looked around for them, but decided to get a clean pair instead. He pushed himself up onto all fours, cringing at the pain from his shoulder and the tug between his legs, and managed to get onto his knees and off the bed. Lionel watched him carefully as he allowed the towel to drop to the floor below and go to the dresser, picking out blue boxer-briefs, sliding them on, and going back to get into his previous position. The area on Leo’s stomach was wet from his hair, but he didn’t care. He closed his eyes and felt the sheets being pulled over the both of them. After lying for a while, he found himself falling asleep, mouth opening slightly and arm reaching up to rest next to his boyfriend. Messi clicked off the bedside lamp and the room was engulfed in darkness, though he fell asleep as well, holding Neymar tightly and close to him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter ten. That's pretty amazing that I've gotten this far! Thank you to all of you who have stuck around and waited for my updates. I know they are slow, few and far in between, but I'm in college again. I also went to Florida for two weeks and my area got hit by Hurricane Harvey. We're okay, though, and so is our house. I've been salty and very upset about Neymar's leave to PSG that I couldn't bring myself to write this. I'm over it for the most part. In this fan fiction, however, Neymar will not leave. I don't know if I will make Dani go to Juventus/PSG, but we shall see.
> 
> I really hope you guys like this! I wrote everything today. Have a wonderful afternoon/evening/night/morning, wherever you are!!

It had been a week and two days since they attempted to fuck and miserably failed. Neymar wouldn’t stop berating himself for what had happened and did his best to avoid Lionel. He ignored texts, phone calls, and having been told to sit out for a few games due to his shoulder injury, he didn’t have to see him in person. A couple times, Leo had attempted to come over, but Neymar ignored the doorbell rings. Aside from going to his physical therapy appointments, he did not leave the house, not even for groceries. He instead ordered out, sometimes pizza, sometimes other things. A couple days into ignoring messages, he started getting texts from the other players. Even his coach tried to check in on him, but he left all of them on read. At least it was a way to let them know he was alive. He told his physical therapist to not let anyone into the facility to see him, no matter what. His embarrassment kept him frozen and away from the world and society. He _fucked up_ , even though neither of them knew what had happened to cause Neymar pain during sex. He probably wasn’t prepared enough, which was what caused him to blame himself so harshly. He ruined their night, ruined sex, ruined everything and was completely inconsolable. A week after their night together, Dani had attempted to come over, but he ignored him as well. He was pretty good at pretending he wasn’t home, except when the delivery people came to his house with food. One time Leo tried to stop by unannounced and Neymar almost opened the door, thinking it was his food, but after a quick look through the door viewer showed his boyfriend, he decided to walk away instead. He kept himself busy with video games, Netflix, and the Internet. He told himself that he didn’t need anyone, but that was far from the truth, he needed people, he needed his boyfriend, he needed Lionel Messi.

He sat up quickly in the middle of the night, his breath coming rapidly, and sweat beading on his forehead. He groaned as he realized he had a night terror and looked over at the time on his alarm clock, grimacing at the fact that it read three twenty-six am. His body felt exhausted, but his mind was wide awake, so he forced himself to climb out of bed. He grabbed his phone off of the night table next to his clock and turned on the flashlight, squinting until his eyes got used to the light, then found his way to the light switch. He flicked it on and his eyes had to get used to those as well, but after the blurriness went away, he decided to check his phone. It was on silent and he took off vibrate so it wouldn’t go off when someone called or texted. More messages from his teammates. Three from Luis, two from Gerard, six from Dani, one from Andrés, two from Rafina, and five from Messi. He could see some of the text on the message notifications, mostly asking him how he was, but when he got to Leo’s, he frowned. All of them except one were him expressing concern, yet the fifth was him begging for a response as well as apologies, which was highly unlike Leo. 

Neymar’s hand started shaking and he slid down the wall he was standing against, tears starting to form in his eyes. He pressed the lock button and set the phone on the carpet next to him after realizing that message was sent an hour ago. Leo wasn’t sleeping and if he was, it wasn’t well. Neymar let out a choked sob, digging his fingers into his bare thigh, trying to hold himself together. An audible gasp escaped his lungs as he tried to fight himself for air, tears freely flowing at this point, allowing himself to feel everything. His heart felt like it ripped itself in two and the ache sent him over the edge. He cried out, banging his fist on his thigh as he tried to calm himself down. Another text lit up his phone. Through tears, he saw it was Dani again, but he ignored it. His vision was bleary and his whole body shaking, yet he managed to grab his phone and unlock it, grateful for the fingerprint unlocking system. He clicked on his messages and went to the most recent one from his boyfriend and opened it. Reading them all almost made himself throw the phone across the room and scream as he finally realized how much he was hurting Messi.

After hitting the wrong letters a few times, Neymar managed to type out, “L,e o..” and fumbled around the buttons for a second before his thumb hit send. 

He waited for a moment, watching as the message went to read and bubbles appeared showing a response was being written. The phone lit up, having darkened itself from inactivity, and the message read, “Jesus Christ, Neymar.” The second message came right after, “You scared the shit out of me.”

Neymar sniffled as he clicked the button to bring up the information on the contact and hit the dial button. The first ring sent pangs of fear throughout his body, the second making him cry again, and the third almost made him hang up, but after that, the phone was picked up. He heard his name being said on the other side of the line, though he couldn’t bring himself to respond. He made a sound as if he tried to talk and let himself fall silent; Messi doing the same on the other end. The only noises that could be heard were from their breathing, his fast and sharp, Leo’s a bit quicker than normal. He stared at the phone, watching the seconds on the call time climb higher and higher as one minute turned to two, then three. He heard his boyfriend swallow and he wanted to say something, he was desperate, though his voice didn’t seem to want to work. Four minutes. He gasped and tilted his head back against the wall, gripping the phone tightly, working on fighting back the tears again. His eyes were hurting and they itched a bit while his mouth and lips were dry. He was shaking like before, breath shuddering with each exhale, but Leo didn’t hang up.

“Ney?” Lionel’s voice was soft on the other end and the nickname broke the dam once again.

He cried once more, feeling himself break down even further, and Leo spoke again, “Oh baby, Neymar, please talk to me.”

“Come over,” Neymar managed to get out, remembering he left the door unlocked because he was hoping someone would be intrusive and check on him.  


“I’m coming,” Messi murmured and Neymar curled himself up into a ball on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest, though he didn’t want to hang up.

His shoulder was stiff from sleep and from laying on it, but he dared not move himself and tried to silence his cries. He was comforted for a second by hearing a car start up and wondered if they were going to stay on the phone the entire time. He hoped Messi was smart enough to hang up, though he knew his boyfriend put him on speaker and set the phone down somewhere in the vehicle. He heard the screech of tires as his boyfriend sped off down the road and was thankful that he wasn’t more than twenty miles away. The call time turned to fifteen minutes and that was when he heard a door open through the phone, a slam, but he was able to hear the car honk from outside as Messi locked the car. His breathing picked up as he knew Lionel was walking up to the house. There was a knock, then another, but Neymar told him through the phone that it was unlocked. He listened as the door was pushed open and closed and feet coming down the hallway. The feet stopped outside of his bedroom door and he heard a hand on the handle, the knob turning, and being opened. He knew Messi looked around the room before spotting him on the floor and when Messi dropped to his knees, Neymar was crying again.

“Oh Ney,” Leo pulled him onto his lap and got himself comfortable on the ground. “It’s okay, Neymar.”

“S-sorry, I’m so sorry,” Neymar stuttered, crying harder and grabbing at his boyfriend’s shirt. 

“You’re okay, I’m here, I’ve got you,” The Argentine player murmured and pulled him closer. 

Everything hurt, his shoulder was practically screaming from pain, but he hardly noticed it from all the other emotions he was feeling. Leo held him until he stopped crying, sitting there in the same position, until Neymar pushed himself back up off of his boyfriend. He didn’t want to look him in the eyes, afraid of what he would see, so he allowed his head to fall against Lionel’s shoulder. He rested his forehead on it and closed his eyes tightly, trying to slow his breathing, while a hand rubbed up and down his bare back. He realized at that moment that the only thing he was wearing were boxers and Leo was fully clothed. He felt vulnerable, though something inside him told him that he was safe, and he knew it. He was always safe with Leo. He glanced over at his phone and realized the call was still going, so he pressed the end button and closed his eyes again. The hand that was on his back slipped up into his hair and the fingers massaged his scalp. The feeling was comforting and he let out a shaky breath, pressing himself even closer, so his chest was touching his boyfriend’s. He was certain Leo could feel his heart racing, but even if he did, he didn’t say anything.

What he did say, though, was, “Look at me, please,” and Neymar complied.

It was harder than he anticipated to make eye contact, yet he did, and found himself whispering, “Deus,” and ended up kissing Leo.

The gesture was returned and he pushed his hand up into his boyfriend’s hair, pulling him closer, parting his lips. Lionel pushed his tongue into his mouth and Neymar pushed himself up onto his knees to deepen the kiss, slowly moving his tongue across his. He sighed shakily, leaning down due to being taller, and their kiss became rougher. Leo nipped and tugged at his lower lip and they both somehow brought themselves to their feet, only breaking the kiss to do so, then went back at it. Neymar moaned a tiny bit, though it wasn’t one of pleasure, it was one of gratefulness to have Leo here. They ended up messing up each other’s hair, even though Neymar’s was messed up from sleep, as they tugged and pulled at locks and strands of hair. They broke away again to breathe and look at each other, Neymar just wishing things would go back to normal. Leo smiled at him and Neymar simply stared, not able to give one in return, instead moving away and shuffling into the bathroom. He turned the water in the sink on and allowed it to run while he stared at himself in the mirror. His hair was most definitely disheveled, his eyes red, and dried streaks down his cheeks from crying. His lip was somewhat swollen from being bit and he looked like an absolute mess. He looked down at the water and cupped his hands, pushing them under the stream, then bringing the water to his face. He washed up, trying to make himself feel better, and grabbed the hand towel on the towel ring and dried his face. Examining it again, he sighed, and tossed it on the counter, walking back into the bedroom. He stared at Leo who was in the same place he left him, took a couple steps in his direction, but stopped and let his head hang in what seemed like defeat. 

Lionel was in front of him rather quickly, tilting his chin up with a curved finger. Neymar refused to look at him, feeling ashamed at what had just happened, freezing when he heard him speak, “We need to talk about what happened.”

 

Once he registered the words, he swallowed, shook his head, and replied with a broken voice, “No, not now, _please_.”

“Neymar,” Leo spoke again, but Neymar frowned and was at the verge of crying again.

“Not now,” His voice was barely a whisper and he saw Leo nod out of the corner of his eye. 

Messi grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the bed, the bed where they tried to have sex, the bed Neymar currently loathed, the bed where he fucked up. Lionel was the first to sit down and being pulled along, Neymar had no choice but to follow suit. He still kept his gaze away, looking everywhere but Leo, choosing to lay on his back. His legs were bent from the end of the bed and his toes flexed against the carpet. Leo laid next to him, watching him, but he closed his eyes to avoid looking at him. He felt utterly ashamed, knowing that he disappointed Leo that night a week ago; knowing he disappointed him now. He constantly asked himself why he was so fucked up, but never had an answer for himself. He flinched as he felt Leo’s thumb brush across his cheekbone, feeling as if he didn’t deserve such a sweet touch. The light was still on and he wished it was off so Leo couldn’t see how broken he was. He felt vulnerable again, disgusting, as if he was scum. He was supposed to be a great futbol player, one of three, some star that millions of people looked up to. Right now, however, he felt small and insignificant under Messi’s gaze. Another brush of his thumb and Neymar opened his eyes, knowing that was what Messi wanted, and decided to make eye contact. His heart ached in his chest and his cheeks flushed, embarrassment washing over him and he felt like a child. 

Leo kissed his chin before speaking, “We won the last game, three to one,” 

Neymar smiled at that until his brain warped it into thinking that they won because he wasn’t there to fuck it up. His smile faltered and Leo cocked his head to the side slightly, staring at the sudden change. “It’s okay, Neymar, you’re okay,” Leo repeated his words from before.

He didn’t want to cry, not this time, but he was relatively sad. “I’m glad we won,” He managed to say, reaching up to rest his hand against his boyfriend’s cheek.

Leo turned to kiss his palm and went back to watching him, “I didn’t goal, but I assisted Luis at the fifty-two minute mark. He was ecstatic.”

Neymar wished he had been there to play and make the three into four, though he knew his injury needed rest. “I wish I was there.”

“I wish you were there, too, Ney,” 

After a little while, Neymar had scooted himself up so he could rest his head on his pillow and Lionel did the same, but with the pillow next to him. They stared at each other, Neymar lying on his side and Messi on his back. Neymar was drifting in and out of consciousness and at some point Leo turned off the light and stripped down to his boxers. They both eventually fell asleep and he finally didn’t dream, only because they slept for about three hours until Leo’s phone rang, the ringtone piercing the quiet room like a sword. Neymar jumped and listened to Leo curse in Argentine slang as he crawled to the end of his bed to get to his shorts that held his phone. Yanking it out, he stared at the caller ID for a moment before looking back to the Brazilian splayed out on the bed. 

“It’s Dani,” He explained, pressing the green button to answer the phone, and held it against his ear. 

“Dani, it’s seven in the morning,” He spoke, voice rough from sleep. 

Neymar could hear the other end of the conversation, listening with a clenched jaw as Dani asked if Leo had been able to talk to Neymar. He sounded worried sick, suggesting that Leo, a few other players, and himself come over to check on Ney. Leo sat himself on the edge of the bed and explained that he was at Neymar’s house already and not to worry too much. They continued to talk for a few more minutes before he hung up the phone and looked over at his boyfriend. Neymar frowned, sitting himself up in the bed and bent his knee up against his chest. He didn’t want anyone else to come over and having Leo here was hard enough on him. He fisted the white sheet in his hand, staring at the shorter man in return. The air conditioning kicked on with a groan and he jumped, but didn’t move his gaze away. He took a deep breath when Messi moved back to his side and found himself leaning over to place a gentle kiss on his lover’s lips. It was quick and he would have done it again if his stomach didn’t gurgle in protest at being empty. His cheeks flushed and Leo chuckled, reaching over to touch his abdomen, resting his hand against the muscles. Neymar shivered and closed his eyes for a fleeting moment, enjoying the touch, then opened them to look at him again.

“Do you want to eat?” Lionel asked and Neymar nodded, scooting himself off the bed. He stood up and stretched, closing his eyes and making a noise as his shoulder strained. 

“What do you have?” 

“Cold pizza.”

When he turned around, he saw his boyfriend frown, “Only cold pizza? Nothing else?”

Neymar shook his head and looked down at his feet, “Haven’t been to the store in a while.”

Leo sighed and Neymar tensed up, feeling as if he disappointed him again, until he heard him talk again. “Cold pizza it is.”

Neymar looked up at him and saw him smile and gave a small one in return. He took a moment to take Lionel in, staring at his chest, eyes going across his collarbones and down his arms. Once his gaze reached his hands, he brought them over to look at his stomach, admiring the muscles underneath his skin and the small amount of hair leading down to his pubic region. He enjoyed the way his muscles stuck out by his hips, biting at his lips when he looked at his cock half-hard in his underwear. He blushed yet again and swallowed, pulling his eyes away from that area to run down his thighs. He felt a twitch in his own boxers while staring at the powerful thighs of the older man, down to his legs, and finally coming to a rest at his feet. He was biting harder at his lip, willing his cock to relax itself, breathing a soft sigh of relief when it returned to being flaccid. Leo cleared his throat and his eyes snapped up to him immediately, watching his expression. 

“Are we going to eat?” There was an underlying tone of arousal in his boyfriend’s voice and as much as he wished he was imagining it, there was no denying what he heard. 

He nodded and led the way into the kitchen, ignoring his phone that was still on the floor, and got himself to the fridge. He pulled the box out, opening it and staring at the four slices of pepperoni pizza. Enough for two. He turned around and showed Leo, who made a noise of approval, and took the first slice. They ate in silence right there in front of the fridge, neither one of them wanting to sit, just watching each other. He forced himself not to look down at Leo’s crotch again so he wouldn’t turn himself on. Two slices of pizza later and Neymar was pouring them both a couple cups of milk, when he felt Leo’s breath on his back. A kiss was pressed to his shoulder blade, causing him to shiver, and almost spill the jug. Leo reached around him and grabbed one of the cups and walked away. Neymar watched him go to sit on the couch and sip at his drink. He set the jug on the counter and followed him with his own cup, although it was half full, and sat down next to him. A few birds chirped outside, but other than that, it was quiet again. He stared at a bubble in his drink and swirled the cup around in an attempt to pop it, boredom coming over him. When it popped, he realized he hadn’t drank any of it, and instead set it down on the small table next to the couch. He leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees and looked over at Messi who had a rather adorable milk mustache. 

“Can we talk?” Lionel broke the silence, swiping his tongue over his upper lip as a drop slid down onto his mouth. 

Neymar tensed up and dropped his gaze to the carpet, suddenly extremely interested in the fibers. “About?” He muttered, although he knew exactly what he wanted to talk about.

“What happened, why you’ve been avoiding virtually everyone for over a week?” 

“I just,” His voice wavered, “I don’t know.”

“Ney, please.” 

“I fucked up, okay? That’s all there is to say.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just, fucked everything _up_.” His voice was straining at this point, threatening to betray his emotions.

“You didn’t-” Leo began, but Neymar cut him off.

“I fucked up!” He raised his voice, lifting his head to stare at him, then swallowing hard before continuing, “I fucked sex up, that night when we tried, when we tried to have sex, I ruined it. I couldn’t bear to see you, to see your disappointment, to know how much of a failure I was. So when you left to go back to your own house the next day, I decided to stop talking to everyone. I went to my physical therapy appointments because I had to, but nowhere else! I saw no one else. I’m so pathetic, I’m such a failure,” 

“Jesus, Ney, you’re not a failure, you’re not pathetic, and you didn’t fuck anything up. You weren’t prepared enough and that’s okay. Things happen,” Lionel replied, attempting to soothe him, but all Neymar wanted to do was cry again.

“¡Tú eres un mentiroso!” He snapped, Spanish coming through when he was upset or angry.

“If I were lying to you, would I be here right now? Would I have even bothered to text or call you?” Leo’s voice changed, but he maintained his composure.

Neymar was silent, contemplating his words, before realizing he was right. He shook his head and rubbed his face with his hand, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. He watched the ceiling fan spin around for a few moments, let his head drop back to where it was, and looked back at his boyfriend. Neymar hadn’t noticed that he had scooted away from him in the middle of their conversation and pressed himself against the armrest until now. He adjusted himself into a more relaxed position and sighed, pulling a leg up onto the couch with him because it was comfortable to sit that way. His arms were crossed over his chest in a defensive, closed off position, but he allowed them to fall to his sides and pick at the band on his boxers. Lionel watched him carefully and Neymar scanned his eyes, wondering where they were supposed to go from here. What was supposed to happen next? He mulled over that thought momentarily until a knock at the door made him jump. He turned his gaze over to the door and held his breath, staring out of one of the windows next to it. It was Dani.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I’d like to give a biiiig thank you to all readers who have kept up with this story so far. It’s awesome seeing kudos continue to come in!!! I don’t know when this story will end, probably not any time soon. I know people are more than likely annoyed at how slow I update. I sincerely apologize for that, my life is up and down and currently fan fiction is at the back of my list. I graduated college last semester as an EMT (therefore, when I work, it will be 12/24 hour days) and I’m back in college for an Associates in History. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter and I apologize that it is short, I ran out of ideas for this one and want to jump to the next. Besos!!!!
> 
> Also, if someone could tell me how to get Ao3 to recognize indents for each paragraph, that would be amazing.
> 
> ——————————
> 
> I am posting to let everyone know that this fic is on an indefinite hiatus. I’m not sure when I’ll come back to it as I’ve lost interest, but it’s not gone for good, I hope. Thanks to all who have read this fic and I apologize if you wanted to see it completed. I will be working on other projects and fics instead. See everyone on the flip side!!!! Besos xoxo

Neymar’s muscles tensed, Dani no more than thirty feet away from him, the door being the only thing to separate them. He wished he moved the couch to the other side of the room, but he knew at that angle people could see in and spot him. Sweat began to form on his forehead, his eyes trained on his friend’s finger as he followed it up to the door bell. His own fingers dug into the back of the sofa, rough against his skin, his own stress seemingly heating up the room he was in. The ding resonated around the house, dancing off of everything hollow. Bile rose up in his throat and left a bitter tang on the back of his tongue as he swallowed it back down. His fingers ached, screaming for relief of relaxation, the seam of the back cushion biting into the tips. He thought about possible escape routes in case Dani somehow made it into his house, though the sheer action of thinking threatened to rip his head in two. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Leo moving and he gauged the distance and time between his boyfriend and the door on the other side of the house. 

If he blinked, he would have missed the door opening and a conversation starting. He swore if he gripped the couch any tighter, his hands would start to bleed. As fast as it started, it ended, and nothing seemed to have changed except for Dani walking away down the drive. He released his death grip on the fabric and slumped back into the couch, staring at his boyfriend with gratitude. His chest felt tight knowing that he had his friend turned away; he didn't know what to do or how to fix things between them. The short Argentinian man stood next to the door, almost like a statue carved out of marble, watching him in return. It felt almost primal, as if Neymar was the prey and Leo the predator. He wasn't sure why he felt vulnerable and it make his cock twitch from arousal. 

“I need to plan for my birthday,” The words tumbled out of his mouth and Leo raised his eyebrow. 

“You haven't planned it? It's a week away,” 

He shook his head, “No, I'm stupid. I have someone coming tomorrow to install a hot tub jacuzzi thing, whatever they're called. Should I invite our friends?”

“I don't-”

“Maybe it's not a good idea, our friends, a party. I haven't talked to anyone except you,”

“When did you decide on a hot tub?”

There was a pause while he thought about it, “Like two weeks ago?”

He let himself fall back against the seats of the couch, training his eyes on the ceiling fan. The movement was calming, yet he had to look away from the light that burned his eyes, much to his dissatisfaction. Was everything supposed to go back to normal after ignoring everyone for two weeks? The thought danced around in his head, uncertainty bubbling up in his system. He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands in a failed attempt to make the floaters in his vision go away. Lionel was gone when he looked up to see where he went so he turned around to lay on his stomach and close his eyes. He stretched out his limbs and left them that way, relishing in the feeling of his muscles being pulled tight and relaxed. When Leo came back into the room, he didn't move, but allowed his hair to be played with momentarily. 

Opening an eye, Neymar glanced at him, though he only saw a thigh. He briefly wondered why Leo hadn't put on pants to open the door, remembered it was Dani, he didn't care, and he knew about their relationship. He reached over and placed his hand on his thigh, watching the muscles move as his boyfriend leaned into his touch. It was a nice feeling to touch him like this again, considering the circumstances, yet his hand fell from Leo’s body. He turned his head to look up at him with a small smile, pushing himself up into a sitting position. All he wanted to do was lounge around the house and watch Netflix all day, but he was certain that Leo wouldn't allow that. For some reason, they needed to be productive. 

—————-——————————————————

Two days had gone by since their interaction, since Dani attempted to come over, since Lionel forgave him for what happened. It was stupid, really, in hindsight - that he threw an utter tantrum over failed sex. He worried his best friend, his teammates, and boyfriend. He wished he could go back and redo everything. He wrung his hands together, worrying his lip with his teeth as he observed his new hot tub/jacuzzi. Rain was sprinkling down over him while he hoped it wouldn’t be like this during his party because he really wanted to have his party. Dani was texting him and he had started to respond, just enough to let him know he was okay on the first day. The second day, he invited him over for lunch, so he would be there in a couple hours. Leo was outside with him, however he was on the deck, reading something on his phone. There was a lot of gossip going around that Neymar was let go from FC Barçelona and that’s why he hasn’t been playing, but he didn’t pay much attention to it. Their manager debunked every rumor and he was grateful for that. His shoulder still throbbed and he’d be out for another week or so; _damn_ did he miss fútbol. 

The rain was making him cold, it was January after all, but Neymar was content with looking at his new tub. He assumed the water was warm and thinking about it sent hot shivers down his spine. His body visibly jerked, causing Leo to glance up at him, but once he realized there was no danger, he went back to his phone. Neymar wrapped his arms around his own torso, continuing the assault on his lower lip, ignoring the slight copper taste from the trickle of blood as he burst through the skin. His mouth looked horrendous, scars and dead skin littering his lip from what he had done to it over the past couple weeks. Leo had threatened to sew his lips together if he didn’t quit, but it was a bad habit he picked up as a teenager. He did it when he was anxious, when he was bored, when he was tired, and whenever he felt like it. It was addicting as nicotine, or so he thought, because he had never smoked in his lifetime. He muttered something under his breath about shitty weather and shuffled his way to Leo. He sat down on a chair next to him, kicking his feet up on a footrest in front of it. 

“Am I dying?” He asked incredulously, looking at his bare legs. 

“What?” The Argentine next to him asked, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. 

He sighed, turning his attention to the man, “It feels like it. I want to play again. I heard the next game is tomorrow, against Tottenham Hotspur. What a dumb name.”

“You aren’t dying and yes, it is a dumb name,” Leo replied, closing the article he was reading. 

“What were you reading?” Neymar inquired, attempting to read what it was before he closed the tab. 

Leo adjusted himself to a more comfortable position, “Cristiano Ronaldo: Can He Overcome His Injury?” 

Neymar visibly flinched at the mention of that name, his mind playing flashbacks in front of his face. He rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to make them go away and he succeeded, looking over at Leo to ensure he was back in reality. There was a ring from his doorbell and he jumped, nearly falling out of his chair. He had no clue who would be at his door at this time because Dani wasn’t coming until later and he hadn’t invited anyone else to his home. He felt a hand rest on his shoulder and when he looked over, Leo was watching him calmly. He took a deep breath and pulled himself up, forcing himself to go answer the door. He rubbed at his arm while approaching the front of the house, uncertainty pricking at his body. The bell rang again, like an echo dancing throughout his home, and he closed his eyes to calm himself down. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous, his boyfriend let him go alone, but whoever it was he knew he could handle it. It was a door and the person behind it was either a friend or potentially the mailman. 

When he opened it, he breathed a sigh of relief at who was behind it. Dani immediately embraced him, picking him up off the ground, which caused Neymar to elicit a squeal, and going off about how Neymar needs to reply more often and not leave him hanging. He said something along the lines of him being an obnoxious little brother and to let him into the house. Neymar complied, backing up and moving aside so his friend could come in. They both said nothing for a few moments, although Neymar had the sense to close the door behind them as to not let the rain inside. Speaking of rain, Dani looked a bit soaked, as if he had been out there for a while. His hair was glistening in the light and Neymar smirked at that, comparing him to a Disney princess in his mind. 

“Leo’s in the back,” He mumbled, motioning to the giant double door on the other side of the house. 

 

He followed as Dani made his way to the backyard, happily greeting Messi as if he hadn’t seen him in two years. Dani gave him a hug just as big, but left the half-inch-shorter man to stand on the ground. Neymar smiled slightly and followed his friend slowly, and sat back on his chair. He felt himself getting lost in thought while the two men chatted next to him, presumably about him being a recluse. He heard laughter, but he didn’t pay attention to the conversation at hand. The only thing that was on his mind was future games and if he would play in Copa America or the Olympics. It was 2016, after all, and both are important to his team and country. One reached its one hundredth anniversary; an entire century of games and the other a feat of the best athletes from around the world. Where would he take Brazil? Would he be able to face Lionel Messi, his boyfriend, in a Copa game if it came down to it? The thoughts stressed him out considerably and he didn’t know how much of a choice he had. It was early and he would have to get with Dunga to discuss where he would go. He would love to make Brazil win a gold and the game was being played in Rio de Janeiro, so he wondered if it was his responsibility to play. 

A hand waved and fingers snapping in front of his face brought him back to the real world, “Neymar? Ney?”

Was the hand talking? No, that didn’t make sense. “Mmm?” He replied, blinking a few times and focusing on who was in front of him. 

“Are you okay, irmão?” The person questioned and Neymar discerned Portuguese, so it must have been Dani.

“Yeah, yeah man. I’m good. Just was thinking about stuff,” He offered a small smile, which was returned. 

“We were just talking about you and why no one has seen you for two weeks. Did you turn into a hermit crab?” 

“If I pinch you, will that answer your question?”

“If you pinch me, I’ll make your boyfriend spank you.” 

Neymar blushed at the words and shoved a laughing Dani away from him, reaching out to pinch his arm. “Ha ha, very funny, Alves.” 

Dani snickered and hid behind Messi who was watching them with an amused expression. “Nah, I’m not helping you, you’re on your own, Dani.” 

He was taunted by the shorter Brazilian, so he jumped up and charged, thanking Leo for moving to the side so he could tackle his friend into the grass. Dani quickly overpowered him and sat on his hips, but Neymar began to tickle his sides, which caused Dani to howl in laughter. Neymar pushed him over and switched their positions, pinning his arms down so he could win. Being as immature as a child, he leaned over the man and drooled, spit dangling close to his face. Dani shrieked hilariously and wiggled, trying to get away. He felt hands under his armpits and he was suddenly lifted into the air. The saliva smacked his chin, dribbled onto his chest, and the second he was set back down, he wiped it on his hand and onto his sweatpants. He was left to pout at Leo who was staring at him, while his friend stood up. Neymar crossed his arms and maneuvered his weight onto one leg, narrowing his eyes to glare at Leo and Dani. 

Dani laughed and Leo punched his shoulder gently, telling him to leave Neymar alone and to stop acting like children. Dani quipped back with a “he started it” excuse and Messi replied saying that he didn’t care who started it, that he was stopping it. Neymar grunted, interested with how quickly his boyfriend acted like a parent scolding a rambunctious child, and _god_ why did he have to get an erection at every little thing? It was at this moment that he wished he owned a two-story house in Spain so he could drag Messi up the stairs and fuck his brains out. His friend was still protesting and being ignored, though it turned into jokes at this point. Dani the Comedian. He should quit his day job and do stand-up. He was about to say that outloud when a crack of thunder overhead startled him and he glanced up at the sky. A storm had rolled in and black rain filled clouds hung above them, threatening to release a downpour of water over his backyard. He sighed and started back to the house, dismissing the idea of taking a dip in the hot tub. The others went in after him and plopped down on the couch, one after the other. 

“I should buy a pool table,” He thought aloud, crossing his legs and leaning against the cushion behind him.

“Why?” Dani inquired, tilting his head slightly as if the statement didn’t make sense to him.

“For fun, duh. We could have like a billion people over to play.” Neymar replied and raised an eyebrow. 

“Only four people can play, though,” Sarcasm was obviously lost on his boyfriend, who looked somewhat concerned at the thought of one billion people playing pool.

Neymar laughed, “Yeah of course only four people can play, I was exaggerating for dramatic effect.”

“Isn’t it _’pause for dramatic effect’_?” Dani teased and Neymar threw a pillow at him, which was caught. 

“No one asked you. I need to figure out who is coming for my birthday. Honestly, I’ll probably just invite the entire team or something,” He shrugged, twisting the hem of his pant leg between his fingers. 

He pulled his iPhone out of his pocket and flashed on the screen, opening up the messages. He added every single player to the contact space and typed out a message. He stared at the words for a while, wondering if he should start out with an apology. He backspaced and typed several times, frowning when he couldn’t figure it out. He should stay simple; he wasn’t close to each player, after all. His personal matters should stay personal, especially because he didn’t know who liked to spread rumors and gossip to other teams and the media. He was relatively certain that Vidal guy couldn’t keep his mouth shut, but maybe he was mixing his teammates up. A _ding!_ for another message jumped down from the top of his screen, but he ignored it due to the fact that it was his phone company updating him on his data usage. It was telling him he was getting to his data limit and after that, he’d have to pay extra for each gigabyte used. He didn’t care, he was a millionaire after all. 

Deciding on what to say, he sent the message, “Party at my house for my birthday!!!! Bring a swimsuit because I have a hot tub!!!!” Followed by a couple emojis sticking out their tongue and a few of the laughing crying faces.


End file.
